Royai 100 Themes: Always By My Side
by Moonrise31
Summary: 045: For the past week, Hayate has been barking and waking up the neighbors while Hawkeye is at the office. Looking back on it, she should've suspected that Mustang had something to do with it. Story: T to be safe. This chapter: K for everyone!
1. 001: Military Personnel

**A/N: So...I've decided to finally start a 100 Royai Themes thing on my own, seeing as I'm a big fan. This is mostly Ed-centric, but don't worry; he's a Royai fan too XD Enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: I do not, in any way, shape, or form, own Fullmetal Alchemist. If I did, I wouldn't make my readers wait for an entire month for the next chapter XD  
**

Life in the military would be hell.

Edward Elric knew this. But he was willing, at just twelve years old, to do anything to get Al's body back. Even if it meant joining the military and becoming a State Alchemist.

And so, being a dog of the military, Ed got to know some of the personnel at Eastern Headquarters that had to bark alongside him.

A few could be a downright pain in the ass.

One particular Colonel Bastard, specifically.

Ed didn't mind Mustang's subordinates—they were nice enough and didn't crack short jokes (No, he was _not_ short!) whenever he came by. Mustang, on the other hand, was an entirely different story.

But in the back of his mind, Ed knew that Mustang meant well, and that the colonel did care for the Elrics.

Thus, Ed slowly found himself starting to care for that damn colonel as well.

He noticed the relationship between Hawkeye and Mustang almost immediately. It wasn't that subtle, since even a twelve-year-old could see it (though he _was_ a gifted, _not short_, twelve-year-old). Havoc had informed him about a betting pool going around the office of when the lieutenant and her colonel would finally hook up. Ed told Havoc that he would feel bad taking all of the officers' money, so he decided to opt out of the betting.

But in reality, Ed didn't know when it would happen. He had no clue whatsoever. Every time he came back to Eastern HQ he expected the two to finally be dating. Or even be married. It was so blatantly obvious that Mustang should just get some guts and ask his woman out already!

"Maybe it's a military thing," he decided out loud. "Something about pretending that you don't care about each other when it's so obvious that you do."

"Yeah, I think you're right, Brother," Al agreed.

"That's messed up," Ed declared. "Why can't Mustang and Hawkeye just admit they have feelings for each other? Everyone can see that they'd go together perfectly, and Mustang's always flirting with other women to get her attention, and who knows _what_ Hakweye's thinking about when she stands right behind him all day, but I bet it isn't just about work."

"Oh…" Al chuckled sheepishly after a long pause. "I thought you were talking about you and Winry…"

"…" Ed suddenly got very red in the face. "Shut up, Al."

**A/N: So...good? Bad? I know the transition of all the different subjects in the beginning is a bit rough, but yeah. I had no other ideas for how to do this. And I couldn't resist the little EdxWinry insert at the end XD Sorry about that. **

**Anyways, reviews are appreciated! This is my first multi-chapter fic, so reviews will keep me going :D  
**


	2. 002: Gunshot

**A/N: Second prompt, gunshot. This starts off a bit off-topic, but you'll get to the gunshot part soon enough, so no worries :) I guess I'm taking these themes more as prompts and then seeing where they take me. Oh well. Enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: Still don't own FMA. If that ever changes, I'll be the first to tell you :)  
**

Rumors were nasty things, Colonel Mustang decided.

A single misheard phrase could escalate to a severely exaggerated story in the blink of an eye, and everyone in Central would hear of it by the end of the day. The Fuhrer himself probably came across the evil little tale at some point or other. It would take weeks to clean up, if it could _ever_ be straightened out, and regardless of whether the rumor was finally corrected or not, nobody would be able to look at the subject(s) of said rumor the same way ever again.

Take Hawkeye, for example. She certainly had a reputation for being…_strict_, to put it mildly. He'd heard far worse—task mistress, slave driver, an ice queen; the list went on and on. But of course, none of it was actually true.

It didn't help that his subordinates complained often about how much paperwork they were forced to do (he himself was guilty of voicing many of these particular grievances). But who could blame them? If someone ever looked _forward_ to doing paperwork, Mustang would personally escort him (or her) to the nearest insane asylum as soon as possible.

He knew Hawkeye didn't enjoy paperwork. She didn't enjoy constantly nagging the other officers into doing it, either. But work was work, and it had to be finished one way or another. And Mustang understood that. He just didn't like to admit it.

Riza really was a nice person. He'd known her since he was a kid, apprenticed under her alchemist father. He'd fought in the Ishbalan war alongside her, and had seen the heavy burden she carried on her back. Those who deliberately avoided Lieutenant Hawkeye for fear of being shot simply didn't know who she really was.

Not that he minded. After all, he felt much better keeping such a wonderful woman for himself, even if it was just the _tiniest_ bit selfish.

_Huh. Hawkeye? Shooting us?_ He couldn't help but snort at the preposterous thought. This was just another example of a rumor gone too far. As if his lieutenant would _ever_ shoot any of them. He leaned back in his chair, eyes closed, giving a deep sigh.

_BANG!_

Mustang quickly leaned forward once more, clumsily grasping his pen as he mumbled a hasty apology. Hawkeye merely tucked her gun back into her holster and resumed her own work.

Out of the corner of his eye, Mustang spotted the still smoking hole in the wall behind him. He smiled. Those silly rumors. Hawkeye never, ever, shot anyone.

She deliberately missed every time.

**A/N: The ending made sense, yeah? I hope so.**

**Review please!  
**


	3. 003: Battlefield

**A/N: ...And here you are: numero tres. I got a gold medal in the Level 2 National Spanish Exam :D And I didn't even know what I was doing XD Anyway, you're probably more interested in Royai than in Espanol...so enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own FMA. Wait, hold on; let me check...yeah, still don't own FMA.  
**

_BANG! Ka-chunk. Click._

_BANG! Ka-chunk. Click._

_BANG! Ka-chunk. Click._

Hawkeye aimed at the target once more, sighting effortlessly and pulling the trigger with practiced ease. _BANG! Ka-chunk._

Emptied cartridges rolled on the floor as she reloaded her rifle once more. So intent was she on her task that she didn't notice the soft booted footsteps approaching from behind.

"Surprise, Lieutenant!" A deep voice sang, accompanied by two gloved hands that abruptly covered her eyes. She yelped and instinctively reacted by elbowing her attacker in the stomach.

"Oof! Damn, Hawkeye, you have sharp elbows," Mustang gasped as he clutched his side, wincing.

"You shouldn't sneak up on me like that, sir," she replied evenly, though she was slightly thrown off by his sudden appearance. "This is a shooting range. I could've easily hurt you."

"I think you've already proved you could do that, Lieutenant," Mustang managed to laugh as he slowly straightened up and took a few breaths. "Anyway, usually you're much more aware. What's wrong?"

"…Nothing," she said after a noticeable pause. "I just thought I'd come here after eating lunch, that's all."

"You mean this lunch?" He held up a familiar brown paper bag.

She narrowed her eyes the slightest bit. "Were you going through my things, Colonel?"

"I didn't have to," Mustang replied. "You left this on your desk even though you said you were going to lunch." He gazed at her, concerned. "Are you alright? Being absent-minded isn't like you, Riza."

She stiffened a little at the use of her first name, but relaxed again when she realized that there was no one else there. "I…I was just a bit preoccupied, I guess."

"Nightmares?" Roy guessed. "Ishbal?"

She smiled wanly and gave a small nod.

"You should've just said so. We could've talked about it or something." He placed a hand on her shoulder.

She shrugged, though not hard enough to shake his hand off. "Shooting clears my head, I suppose." She laughed humorlessly. "Ironic, isn't it? The very thing I did in that god-forsaken battlefield also helps me get over those horrible nightmares."

"Does it?" Roy asked skeptically, pulling her closer. "I'm sure you'll get over it sooner or later, but it'll come back again some other time. I don't think this is a good way to deal with it."

"Oh, so now you're a psychologist?" Riza smiled a little. "Alright then, _Doctor_ Roy, what do _you_ suggest I do?"

"Well, since you asked," Roy grinned back, "I think you should spend more time with a particularly dashing coworker of yours."

"But Havoc's already taken," she replied innocently.

"Riza! I'm deeply hurt," Roy placed a hand over his heart in mock horror. "Certainly you think _I'm _more handsome than anyone else."

She laughed. "Whatever helps you sleep at night, Roy." She left his embrace to put her rifle back on the gun rack. "Though anyone who does his paperwork without complaining gets an automatic gold star in my book."

He pouted. "Oh, come on, Riza. We don't have to go back to the office so soon, do we?"

She raised a playful eyebrow at him. "I suggest you do as I say, sir. If you haven't noticed, we're at a shooting range." She tapped the barrel of the rifle casually. "Accidents happen, you know."

Mustang chuckled. "Very well, Hawkeye. Let's get to work, then." The two walked out side by side, their hands just barely touching.

**A/N: Aw...Roy can get Riza out of any bad mood in the blink of an eye... :) Fourth chapter comes next Friday, so stay tuned! Meanwhile, you could preoccupy yourself by reviewing :D Please? If I get five more reviews I'll post early~ ^^**


	4. 004: Grave

**A/N: Sheesh, what do I have to do to get a review around here? I only got one for my third chapter, so I decided to post this chapter early. I'm starting to feel like no one's reading this, but my story stats say otherwise. **

_**SO PLEASE REVIEW. **__**I'M **__**LITERALLY ON MY KNEES, BEGGING YOU TO REVIEW!**_ (Really, I'm on my knees as I type this. I decided to kneel at my desk today :P)

**Not much to say about this one, I guess. This is when Roy and Riza are kids. I like writing these kinds of childhood stories--there's just so much more to work with, since their past is so open ended :)**

**Disclaimer: I can haz FMA? No? Drat.  
**

She'd always liked graveyards.

Graveyards were quiet and peaceful, and there was nobody to yell at her for not making dinner on time. The big, strong headstones provided a perfect shield from a cold wind or searching eyes, or a backrest when she was reading a good book.

The graveyard was where her mother was.

Her mother had died when Riza was still too young to remember what she was really like. But she liked to think that her mother cared for her more than anything else in the world. Her mother gave her the courage she needed to live through the hardships she now encountered much too often. Her mother gave her the strength to bear the searing pain forever embedded in her back.

Talking to her mother gave Riza a pleasant warm feeling she could never feel otherwise. She could almost hear the ringing laugh and just about see the grin that always accompanied it. Sometimes she could imagine the encircling embrace of gentle arms that she longed to feel in real life.

"How are you today, mother?" She asked, decorating the headstone with fresh daisies from the nearby meadow. Her fingers traced the letters etched into the granite. "I'm fine, I guess. Father didn't yell at me today. Not yet, anyway. He's too busy with Mr. Mustang." She smiled faintly. "Mr. Mustang's a funny boy, mother. But you'd like him. Maybe I'll bring him to meet you sometime."

"Riza?" A voice came from behind. She quickly turned and found herself face to face with the "funny boy" in question.

"Who were you talking to?" Roy asked.

"…No one. Just myself," Riza replied, not meeting his eyes.

Roy's observant gaze took in the headstone behind her. "Oh…your mom, huh?"

"Shouldn't you be studying, Mr. Mustang?" Riza asked, changing the subject.

"Just call me Roy," the apprentice insisted. "I'm only a few years older than you are; no need to be so formal. And as for my studying, I'm on break right now." He looked at her thoughtfully. "Do you remember much of your mother?"

"I remember enough," she replied vaguely. "Sometimes she's the only one that keeps me sane."

"Talking to a piece of stone doesn't seem very sane to me," Roy stated matter-of-factly.

Riza glared at him, eyes flashing. "I'm not crazy, _Mr. Mustang._" She made the formality seem more like an insult.

"But there isn't any proof," he insisted. "Spirits aren't real; it's just your mind that's conjuring all this stuff up."

"Who says I'm 'conjuring?'" she huffed, turning her back to him. "I'm talking to my mother, not her spirit."

"…I'm just saying," he said, sounding sorry, "that maybe you should try to talk to a living person for a change."

"Sometimes living people can be very rude," she retorted, still not forgiving him for implying that she wasn't right in the head.

"Look, I'm sorry, Riza," he apologized. "It's just that…I want to spend more time with you." He rubbed the back of his head uncomfortably. "I guess I'm a bit…jealous of your mom. She gets you all to herself."

Riza still sat facing away from Roy, but she sighed. "…Maybe you and her could work something out." She rearranged a couple of flowers and addressed her mother. "Hey, Mom. This annoying kid is Roy Mustang, father's new apprentice. He's a _huge_ pain in the butt."

"Hey!" Roy objected. "I can introduce myself, thank you very much."

He crouched next to Riza and placed a hand on the headstone. "Hello, Mrs. Hawkeye. I promise I'm not as irritating as Riza says. At least, _I_ don't think so." He glanced over at Riza, who stared back at him with a slightly raised eyebrow.

Roy turned back to the headstone and continued. "So...yeah. Help me out? Riza can barely stand me, but maybe you can tell her to be more accepting. Then we can have a lot of fun together...All three of us."

He grinned and looked out of the corner of his eye at the pretty girl sitting next to him, who was busy trying to hide a smile.

**A/N: I played around with the ending a lot. I think this satisfies me the most. It's all cute and fuzzy and makes me feel all warm inside :3  
**

**Anyways, like I said in the beginning,**

**_PLEASE REVIEW! I WILL BE INSANELY HAPPY IF YOU DO!_ ^^  
**


	5. 005: HeikiWeapon & HeikiFine

**A/N: Just a short little thing that's been sitting around for a while. I actually wrote this as a second prompt even though it's number five, so I had to wait to post XD**

**_THANK YOU ALL SO MUCH FOR THE REVIEWS. THEY MADE ME ALL HAPPY AND SMILEY THESE PAST TWO DAYS :) PLEASE KEEP THEM COMING!_**

**Disclaimer: I don't own FMA. Yet. I'm still working on it. It might be awhile, so don't expect much._  
_**

_Damn it_, she swore silently. _Damn it. Why does he have to be so stupid? _Heart racing, she ran through the hallway, gun at the ready. Havoc, Breda, and a team of soldiers closely followed. She turned the corner.

There he was. Lying limply on the floor. Blood collecting in a small puddle around his body. _Damn it. Dammit dammit dammit dammit dammit!_ She tried to remain calm, tried to exhibit confidence that she didn't have. She opened her mouth, but no sound came out. She couldn't take her eyes off of his body and the precious, crimson liquid slowly draining out of it.

She dimly heard Havoc giving orders in the background, covering for her. She was glad he understood. Putting her gun back into her holster, she hurried to Mustang's side.

"Colonel, can you hear me? Sir?" She was relieved when he opened his eyes just a crack.

"Ah, Lieutenant. Glad you could make it," he chuckled weakly.

"You need medical attention, sir. Try not to move too much." She signaled two medics, who came bearing a stretcher. One quickly bandaged the gaping wound in the colonel's side to stop the bleeding.

"Oh, thanks for the advice," Mustang replied dryly. "I was planning on doing a full aerobic workout after this followed by a twenty-mile marathon, but I suppose you do have a point."

"Just saying, sir." Riza tried to keep the annoyance out of her voice. Really; he'd been on the brink of death only a few moments ago and now somehow still managed to make her feel pissed. It must be a talent.

* * *

She sat beside him in the back of the ambulance as the vehicle rushed to the nearest hospital.

"What's wrong, Lieutenant?" His voice was barely audible. "You look like Black Hayate just bit you in the ass or something."

"You should've waited," she replied after a few moments, one hand clenching the edge of the gurney tightly. "Why did you just go rushing in like that without any backup? You could've gotten killed."

"Oh, I wasn't worried," he smiled. "Not when I have dependable subordinates like you. You have my back, after all."

"Then let me do my job, sir," she scolded through clenched teeth. "I have other uses besides running in afterwards and cleaning up after you. Use me so you won't get hurt in the first place!"

"Riza," he whispered, moving his hand so it rested on top of hers, "you're not my weapon to use. You're too fine for that." He squeezed her hand, eyes twinkling.

_Well, I might be fine, but you're definitely not. _She stared at the small red stain that had started to spread on his starched white bandages. She managed to stay almost immune to his attempt to charm her. Almost. She wanted to berate him, hit him even, for being so dumb. But she held it in.

"Roy…why do you have to be such an idiot?" she sighed and rested her forehead on top of their entwined fingers. He simply smirked in reply.

**A/N: ...Yup. I was going to have a little paragraph at the end with the medic that happens to be riding in the ambulance with them, but I thought it'd ruin the mood XD**

**So...PLEASE REVIEW! :D  
**


	6. 006: Death

**A/N: Well...this is about...death. Yeah.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own FMA. If I did, well...it wouldn't be nearly as awesome as it is.  
**

"Riza," Roy began, staring at Hughes' grave. "…Is there an afterlife?"

"…I don't know, Roy." The two stood alone in the otherwise empty cemetery. "Sometimes I like to think so."

"Then do you believe in Heaven and Hell?" he asked.

"I don't know about that." She got a faraway look in her eyes. "If such places existed, I'm afraid of where I'd end up."

"Maes would be in heaven," Roy said. "He would be in heaven," he repeated, as if to assure himself.

"Wherever he is, I'm sure he's happy," Riza replied, gripping Roy's arm comfortingly. "And attacking his fellow spirits with an endless supply of Elysia photos as we speak."

Roy's lip quirked a tiny bit. "He _would_ do that." He sighed. "I miss him, Riza. I want to see him again."

"We all do," she said soothingly. "But…we'll have to wait, right?" She tried to keep the worry out of her voice. Roy _seemed _mentally stable on the outside, but on the inside...

"Yeah. I guess we'll have to wait," Roy repeated, turning to smile sadly at her. "Wait with me, please, Riza."

"Why wouldn't I?" She smiled back and repeated the words she'd once uttered such a long time ago. "I'll follow you anywhere, Roy. Even to hell."

Roy snorted softly. "I don't plan on going there anytime soon, if there is such a thing. I'm going to the top, Riza, not to the bottom."

"Yes… we're already at the bottom, aren't we?" Riza stared at the headstone, eyes misting over slightly.

Roy followed her gaze and choked back a sob. "Yeah. Pretty much."

Wordlessly, Riza wrapped an arm around his waist, knowing she could only do so much to try and ease his pain, and feeling frustrated because she couldn't do more.

"It's…raining again, Riza." Roy stared up at the clear blue sky.

She moved her hand up to his shoulder and squeezed comfortingly, blinking back a few tears of her own. "I know, Roy. It's raining pretty hard."

**A/N: I suck at non-humor stuff. So review to tell me how to do better, okay? I'm posting chapter 7 next Friday, but if I get ten reviews I'll post early~**


	7. 007: Crime and Punishment

**A/N: Flashback time! :D This is a lighter chapter, and longer, so hopefully I'll get more reviews *hint* *hint* ;) Enjoy!  
**

**Disclaimer: What? I don't own FMA? Preposterous! But true, unfortunately. If that makes any sense. See? This is why I don't own FMA.  
**

_Knock. Knock._

Riza looked up from her cup of tea. Who could it be at this hour?

Upon opening the door, she discovered a dripping Roy standing unhappily in front of her.

"Um…hello, sir?"

"Hawkeye…please let me in," Mustang huffed, clearly frustrated as he attempted to sweep the sopping wet hair from his eyes. "I just need to get out of the rain for a bit."

"Of course, sir." Riza quickly stepped aside to let the colonel in. She smirked as she closed the door. "Feeling useless again?"

"Shut up," Roy grumbled as he hung his soaked jacket on the coat rack. He paused for a second, and then slid off his boots as well to avoid getting muddy footprints all over the floor.

"Sorry, sorry," Riza chuckled. "I'll get you some slippers. Help yourself to leftovers."

"Thanks," Roy smiled gratefully and made his way to the kitchen barefoot. He found some spaghetti in the pot and a jar of tomato sauce sitting on the counter. Filling a plate, he sat down at the table opposite of the seat Riza had previously occupied. He prepared to take a bite, but paused as he stared at the innocent, sauce-drenched noodles in front of him. The meal was so familiar; it reminded him of the days when he was still Master Hawkeye's apprentice...

* * *

"RIZA!" An eleven-year-old Roy howled as he waved his hand in front of his mouth frantically, trying to cool the burning sensation on his tongue. Heck, it wasn't just his tongue; his whole mouth felt like it was on fire. Even his teeth seemed to be burning.

"That's what you get for whining," was the reply, only half coherent since Riza was having a laughing fit at the same time.

The two children were having lunch in the meadow. It was a beautiful summer day, and Master Hawkeye had been so irritated with Roy that he'd kicked the apprentice out for the rest of the afternoon. Riza had wasted no time in suggesting that they go out for a picnic, and Roy had readily agreed. Unfortunately, he'd made the mistake of complaining about the spaghetti Riza was packing.

"GET ME WATER! NOW!" He had never tasted anything so spicy. Where the heck did Riza get this stuff?

"_You_ were in charge of the drinks," Riza giggled, clearly enjoying Roy's agony. "Maybe if you weren't so busy whining about the noodles—"

"I JUST SAID THAT WE'D BEEN HAVING IT EVERY SINGLE DAY! I WAS GETTING SICK OF IT! WHERE THE HECK IS THE WATER?" Roy yelled, glancing around frantically with teary eyes. He spotted a river flowing nearby and immediately dashed towards it.

"Well, _I_ like my spaghetti," Riza called after him, though by that time Roy was already desperately splashing water into his stinging mouth. After a few minutes, the burning had finally abated enough for him to start slowing walking back towards Riza, a plan for vengeance already formed in his mind.

The girl in question was happily munching on her spaghetti, apparently immune to the extreme spiciness of the sauce she'd doused liberally on her noodles.

"Riza…" Roy began when he had returned to the picnic site.

She put down her plate and turned around to face him. "What?"

Riza let out a squeal as Roy pinned her down on the ground, sitting on her legs and holding her arms firmly against her side. When she found that she couldn't move, Riza glared at him. "Roy!"

"You are _so_ going to get it now," he replied, grinning evilly.

Her eyes widened the slightest bit. "What are you going to do?"

Roy slowly leaned over until their noses were touching. Riza flinched and struggled a bit, but he was too strong for her. "Roy—"

She suddenly gasped when he kissed her on the cheek and leapt back, releasing her. "EW! GROSS! ROY, WHAT'D YOU DO _THAT _FOR?" Riza exploded, jumping to her feet, fists clenched (and blushing furiously).

"Because I knew you'd get mad," Roy laughed, clearly satisfied with his revenge (he noticed her blushing, but wisely didn't point it out because of the hotness he felt on his own face).

"You bet I am." Riza's eyes narrowed dangerously, her voice suddenly calm. Roy couldn't help but shudder. Maybe kissing her hadn't been such a good idea…

No, it had still been worth it.

* * *

"What's with that look on your face?" Riza asked as she stepped into the kitchen, pair of slippers in hand.

"Oh…um…just wondering…did you…?" Roy blinked as he slowly came out of his daze.

She laughed. "No, I didn't put the Xingese hot sauce in this time. I might have if I'd known you were coming, though."

"Ha ha," Roy retorted. "Very funny." But he smiled as he ate a forkful of pasta. "Hey, can I drink some of your tea?"

"Go ahead." Riza sat down opposite of him and pushed her cup across the table. Roy thanked her and drained the tea in one gulp.

He was just about to take a second bite of spaghetti when his eyes suddenly bugged out. He could feel an all too familiar burning sensation flaming in his throat. He choked, but no words came out. His eyes started tearing up. "Water," he managed to gasp.

"Right here." Riza had already gotten up to get him a glass and had set it in front of him, suppressing a smile.

When Roy finished drinking, he glowered at her. "What was that damn sauce doing in your tea?"

"I can handle a little fire," Riza chuckled. "Apparently, you can't, Mr. _Flame _Alchemist_._"

"Huh," Roy snorted. Then he smiled mischievously. "I guess I've got to get back at you now." He slowly leaned forward. Riza did the same. They met in the middle, nose to nose.

"I don't think it's revenge if I like it," she said softly.

"Well, I like it too, so let's just call it even," he whispered in reply. And their lips touched.

**A/N: I thought saying "And they kissed" sounded too...boring. "And their lips touched" sounds...I don't know. You tell me. Review! :)  
**


	8. 008: Storelined Streets

**A/N: Sorry for posting late. Life got in the way, unfortunately. Oh well. It's here now, so enjoy! :)**

**Disclaimer: I do not own FMA. It's on my wish list, though.  
**

"Let's go shopping, Riza!" Roy declared cheerfully as the two strolled down the street.

"Roy, are you telling me that you dragged me out of my apartment at six in the morning to go _shopping_?" Riza seemed annoyed, to say the least.

"Aw, come on. Our whole office is off today. This is a rare chance for us to spend the whole day together." Roy grinned and held out his hand. "May I?"

A ghost of a smile appeared on Riza's face. She placed her hand in Roy's. "I suppose."

The two walked leisurely, passing several silent buildings, before Riza finally commented, "Roy…no stores are open at 6 AM on a Saturday."

"Oh, I'm sure we can find _some_ place that's up as early as we are," Roy replied brightly, determined not to let this tiny problem affect the wonderful day ahead of them.

* * *

The bell above the door chimed merrily as the two walked in.

"Really, Roy? A grocery store?" Riza resisted the urge to chuckle.

"Hey, it doesn't matter where we are as long as we're having fun, right?" Roy gently pulled Riza in the direction of the candy aisle. "And now, if I recall correctly, chocolate makes you _very_ happy."

"And if _I _recall correctly, _you_ like chocolate even more than I do," Riza laughed quietly and let herself be dragged along.

"Which is why _we_ are going to buy some." Roy stopped in the middle of the aisle and scanned the selections before him. "Well, what do you want?"

"You have to get some too," Riza insisted.

"I like whatever you like," Roy replied easily.

"Stop being nice, Roy," she smirked. "I don't mind if you pick. I can see you eying that package of dark chocolate over there."

"Well, dark chocolate _is_ healthier," Roy agreed before grabbing it from the top shelf. "I guess we can get that—if you don't mind."

Riza hit him lightly in the shoulder. "I already said I didn't. Now what else do you want?"

"No—now it's your turn to choose." Roy gestured grandly to the rest of the store. "Pick something—I think we should have lunch in the park this afternoon."

"A picnic sounds nice," Riza murmured. "Let's see…then we need drinks, fruit, and maybe sandwiches?"

"Sounds good," Roy grinned happily. "Shall we continue shopping, then?"

"We shall," Riza chuckled and grabbed Roy's sleeve, walking towards the bakery section. "What kind of sandwich do you want?"

"Ham and cheese, if you want it too."

"Oh, relax, Roy. We can make separate sandwiches if we want different things."

"But I want to share the same sandwich with you." He hung his head and pretended to pout.

She laughed and brushed the hair out of his eyes. "Then you're lucky I like ham and cheese."

The two continued their light-heated banter as they shopped around in the near-empty grocery store. They didn't notice a familiar coworker peeking from behind the snack display.

Breda smirked to himself. He was _so_ going to win that bet with Havoc.

**A/N: A sequel to this will be coming up in a couple of chapters, so watch out! Well, did you like it? Review, please! The number of reviews I'm getting gets smaller and smaller with each chapter, and it's kind of depressing...**


	9. 009: Unknown past

**A/N: Hm...this one is a bit...weird. Just bear with me, okay? Okay. Enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: Still don't own FMA. But the last chapter is coming out, like, next week! *hyperventilating*  
**

Fuery strode as quietly as he could through the darkened hallways of Central Headquarters. He had arrived an hour earlier than usual (he'd had trouble sleeping) and was now regretting it. Nobody else was here at five o'clock in the morning. It was a wonder that the doors were unlocked. Maybe he should've gone to the library instead. It should be open, seeing as those researchers who stayed up all night were always working there.

By the time he'd reached the decision to turn around and go back the way he'd come, Fuery realized that he had already arrived at his office door. It was closed, but he could tell that the lights were on inside the room, indicating that someone was already there. Puzzled as to who else could possibly be up as early as he was, Fuery placed a hand on the doorknob and started to turn it.

"Roy!" Fuery halted. The voice was unmistakable. But why would Lieutenant Hawkeye ever call the colonel by his first name?

"What, Riza?" Mustang sounded almost lazy when he asked. Fuery frowned. What the hell was going on?

"…Should we really be doing this?" That made Fuery's heart stop. Hawkeye? Doing something questionable? With Mustang?

"I mean, what if the others come in and see us?" the lieutenant continued. _See you do what?_

"Oh, relax. Nobody's gonna come here till six, at the earliest. It's just you and me for an hour, Riza," Mustang assured her. And Fuery wasn't about to correct him. He made out booted footsteps crossing the room. "Let's have some fun," the colonel suggested playfully.

Fuery heard Hawkeye give a small yelp. There was a thump and a crash followed by a "Now, was that so hard?" from a satisfied Mustang.

"Roy, get off of me," the lieutenant laughed lightly. _But she laughed!_ Fuery couldn't believe it. Hawkeye smiled sometimes, on a really good day, but she never _laughed_. And she'd done it when Mustang was _on top of her?_

"No," the colonel refused cheerfully.

"Fine, then. At least take this off of me," Hawkeye insisted impatiently, though she didn't sound annoyed. In fact, it seemed like she was _enjoying it_…

"Yes ma'am," Mustang laughed. He was unbelievably happy as well. What was the colonel taking off of Hawkeye that could make him so overjoyed…? Fuery's face turned red as it finally dawned on him.

Fuery ran away from the door as quickly and quietly as he could, cheeks still as crimson as a ripe tomato and banning certain images from his mind. He'd always figured that the lieutenant and Mustang had had a deeper connection than that of just coworkers. After all, two people couldn't understand each other as well as they did by just spending ten hours a day together. They obviously had had some sort of serious relationship before hand, and he had just happened to discover it.

_There's just so much about their past that the rest of us don't know about,_ he thought. _Including this…_his ears turned scarlet as well, since his face couldn't get any redder.

* * *

"Roy!" Riza looked at her colonel, who gazed back at her from under the brim of a newspaper hat.

"What, Riza?" Roy seemed quite satisfied with his handiwork.

"…Should we really be doing this?" She had spied the second hat on Roy's desk and knew who it was for. "I mean, what if the others come in and see us?" The sight of their superior and a coworker wearing newsprint helmets…Riza knew the other officers would never let them live it down.

"Oh, relax. Nobody's gonna come here till six, at the earliest. It's just you and me for an hour, Riza," Roy smiled. He grinned mischievously and held up the other piece of attractive headwear and advanced. "Let's have some fun."

Riza stared at him, contemplating what to do. Roy was right—no one else was here at this time of day; they were probably the only ones in the entire headquarters. So it probably wouldn't hurt to goof off a little, since it was with Roy…

When Roy stopped in front of her, she looked up and smiled, playfully tugging down one end of the improvised cap, blocking his vision. Not foreseeing this action, Roy waved blindly, and pitched forward, crashing into Riza, who uttered a small exclamation. Both fell on the floor with a loud thump, Roy on top of Riza, and a slightly crumpled paper hat perched atop of Riza's head.

Roy chuckled. "Now, was that so hard?"

"Roy, get off of me," Riza laughed. She had a feeling he'd lost his balance on purpose.

"No." Roy shifted so he was sitting on Riza's legs but she could still sit up. He seemed quite content with his position.

To tell the truth, Riza wasn't about to complain, either. This was just too much like when they were playing as kids, and they just didn't get to do that anymore. "Fine then. At least take this off of me." She motioned to the paper hat. It was too big and kept sliding over her eyes.

"Yes ma'am," Roy beamed, saluting. He'd make a better hat later—one that didn't cover Riza's beautiful amber gaze.

All of a sudden, the two heard a squeal and then footsteps retreating quicker than either thought was possible. They looked at each other. "What was that?"

**A/N: Not what you expected, was it? XD I guess it's hard to imagine Riza not being strict in the office, but this is before work hours, so...it's kinda justified. Kinda.  
**

**REVIEW!**


	10. 010: Promise

**A/N: OH MY GOSH. FMA 108 IS OUT. READ IT NOW. I got so excited I decided to post early :) And I'll post another chapter tomorrow because it's Royai day! So double post this week-aren't you guys lucky? ^^ Enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own FMA. Which is a good thing, because I could not have made a better ending 8D  
**

"Havoc, a promise is a promise."

"Oh, don't give me that shit, Breda," Havoc snorted. "A bet is very different from a promise. 'Promise' sounds so much more serious and solemn. Bets are entirely different."

Breda rolled his eyes. "A bet _is_ the same as a promise. You're just sore that you lost. Now pay up."

"Hey, Falman!" Havoc called across the room. "Define 'bet.'"

"Verb or noun?" The man in question looked up from the particularly thick book he was reading instead of doing his paperwork.

"Uh…noun?" Havoc scratched his head. "Yeah, noun."

"Bet: a pledge of a forfeit risked on some uncertain outcome; a wager," Falman immediately cited.

"How about 'promise?'" Havoc pressed. "Noun," he added as an afterthought.

"Promise: a declaration that something will or will not be done, given, et cetera."

"Hah!" Havoc turned to Breda and shoved a triumphant finger in the latter's face. "See? _Not_ the same thing!"

"Oh yeah?" Now Breda consulted their convenient human dictionary. "Falman, what're some synonyms for 'promise?'"

"Affirmation, agreement, bond, commitment, consent, contract, guarantee, pact, pledge—" Falman was apparently a thesaurus too.

"Hah! He said 'pledge!' Which is in the definition of 'bet!' So I win!" Breda crowed victoriously.

"Win what?" Hawkeye asked as she strode into the office.

"Uh…the…lottery?" Breda smartly decided not to inform the subject of the bet about said bet.

"Oh, that's nice." Though her tone didn't show it, Hawkeye was already suspicious. She hadn't entirely heard what the men had been discussing beforehand, but she was pretty sure it hadn't been the lottery. "Congratulations, Breda, but you really should get back to work." She looked at each officer one by one. "All of you should." The three quickly complied.

The room was silent for about half an hour, with the exception of furiously scratching pens. Then Fuery burst in, looking flustered, a crumpled piece of paper clenched in his hand. "Breda! I got the news! So it's really true? The lieutenant and Colonel Mustang really got together last weekend?"

The poor sergeant noticed the stricken looks on his coworkers' faces and realized too late the presence of the very lieutenant he'd mentioned. Hawkeye stared at him with such intensity that Fuery started to shake visibly. Sweat beaded on his forehead until the young man couldn't take it any longer. "I-I-I-I just realized th-th-that I have t-t-to g-g-g-go to a-a-a d-d-oct-t-ter's ap-p-p-pointment! I'llseeyoulaterbye!"

On his hasty retreat Fuery almost ran into Mustang. Muttering incoherently about a doctor's appointment and being sorry, the sergeant quickly disappeared around the corner.

"What was that about?" Mustang asked, mildly confused.

"Well," Hawkeye said slowly, having finally figured out what was going on, "it seems that our coworkers have a betting pool going around on when we'll…_get together_. And Breda claims to have won."

"Oh…I see." Mustang's eyes lazily flicked over to Breda, who was unsuccessfully trying to find a way to make it out of the office in one piece. Havoc and Falman wisely chose to melt into the background at this time. "What gave him that idea?"

"I haven't the slightest clue." Hawkeye flicked the safety off of her pistol thoughtfully. _Click._ "Care to enlighten us, Breda?"

"Um…well…" Breda was beginning to feel quite uncomfortable, but he couldn't make a break for it since Mustang was blocking the door.

"Yes. Please do tell us about your _adventures_ this weekend." Mustang rubbed the gloved fingers of one hand together casually, creating several small sparks.

The whole office was hushed. Breda's heavy breathing could be heard. Finally, the poor man broke.

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!" Breda jumped out of his chair and frantically raced out the door, almost running over Mustang in the process.

"Hm. Maybe he has a forgotten doctor's appointment too," Hawkeye commented as if nothing out of the ordinary had occurred.

"Indeed. In fact, he seemed a little feverish to me," Mustang rubbed his chin. "Maybe you should file a sick leave for him. I don't think he'll back for a few days. Maybe even for the rest of the week."

"Will do, sir." Hawkeye nodded.

"Good." Mustang leisurely walked to his desk and sat down with a sigh to face the mountain of papers before him.

After a few minutes had passed, Havoc allowed himself a grin. It was probably safe to say that he no longer owed Breda 5,000 cenz.

**A/N: So...this was the sequel I promised you guys a couple chapters back. Remember when Breda saw them in the grocery store? But this chapter can stand on its own, too. By the way, I got the definitions from dictionary . com and I'm assuming 100 cenz = 1 US dollar. **

**REVIEW! PLEASE! I SHALL BE EXTREMELY HAPPY WHEN YOU DO! :D  
**


	11. 011: Liar

**A/N: So, for Royai day I have another chapter for you guys :) Hope you enjoy! (Oh yeah, I'm going to take a little writer's liberty here and say that coffeemakers exist in FMA.)  
**

**Disclaimer: Once again, don't own FMA. Now I just need to wait for Brotherhood to catch up to the awesome epic ending the manga reached :D  
**

It was the beginning of spring and lately the residents of Central had been enjoying some rather pleasant weather. But currently, a health dose of rain was pounding the city. Needless to say, Colonel Roy Mustang was not happy.

"Damn weatherman," he grumbled angrily as he stomped through the office door, his boots making squelching noises as he made his way across the carpet. "What a liar."

"Good morning to you too, sir," Hawkeye looked up from her desk, the only one in the office. "I didn't expect you to come in this early."

"Well, I thought I'd get out as soon as possible and enjoy the perfect morning that stupid, lying bastard promised me, but _no_, the moment I get two blocks from HQ Mother Nature decides to get all sentimental and dump every fluid ounce of her tears on _me_." Mustang threw his soaked jacket on the coat hanger. His foul mood only darkened when the drenched garment missed the hook and landed on the floor instead.

"Maybe you need a cup of coffee," Hawkeye suggested calmly, getting up to hang Mustang's coat for him before he decided to break something. "If this keeps up, I might actually encourage you to come in late."

"Oh, shut up, Riza," Roy grumbled. "I'm not in the mood for jokes."

"Hm. Now I _know_ you're upset," Riza commented. "I'll get you that coffee." She walked over to the coffeemaker conveniently located on Fuery's desk (honestly, Fuery didn't need any caffeine—he was jittery enough already) and plugged it in.

The lights flickered once, twice, before shutting off completely.

"Of course!" Roy threw his hands up in the air, droplets from his soggy sleeves flying everywhere. "A power outage! Why not? This day just keeps getting better and better. And it's barely even started!"

"Lighten up, Roy," Riza sighed. "I'm sure the electricity will be back soon. Just do some of that paperwork you were supposed to finish yesterday."

"I can't see in the dark, Riza," Roy replied, sounding equally exasperated. "How do I know what I'm authorizing?"

"Like you read them anyway," Riza snorted. "You can barely keep your eyes open enough to sign on the dotted line."

"Heh. Can't deny that," Roy managed a smirk. Riza couldn't see it, but she could hear it in his voice. "Tell you what, Riza. Let's play a game while we wait for the power to come back."

"What game?" She was a bit wary, but she really had nothing else to do till the lights turned on.

"Hangman," Roy declared.

"…Roy. Have you forgotten about the situation we're in?" He could clearly imagine her rolling her eyes.

"Mental hangman. It'll be fun," he promised. "I'll go first. Three words. One blank for the first, four for the second, and three for the third." There was a thud as he plopped on the floor, leaning against his desk.

Riza sighed. "You really want to play this?" She settled herself next to him

"You do too," he teased.

"… 'A.'"

"That's a head," Roy sang cheerfully.

"Hm…then it's got to be 'I,'" Riza guessed.

"The first word, yes. No other blanks," Roy confirmed.

" 'E.'"

"That would be the last letter in the second word."

"The four letter one?"

"Yes."

She thought for a bit. "How about 'O?'"

"Second letter in the second word and second letter in the third."

" 'U?'"

"Last letter of the last word." Roy smiled.

"And 'Y.'" Riza finished the last of the vowels.

"First of the last word," Roy affirmed contentedly.

"So I've got… 'I O-E YOU,'" Riza mused out loud, feigning contemplation, though she had known right from the beginning what Roy had been trying to spell.

"And a head," Roy reminded her. "For the hangman."

"And now I'm guessing 'V,'" Riza continued.

"Third letter," Roy was grinning now. "So you've got 'I O-V-E YOU.' Care to venture a guess as to what the phrase is?"

"Oh, I think I'll keep guessing letters," Riza chuckled. "Next I'm going to pick… 'M.'"

"Correct—! Hold on, did you say 'M?'" Roy blinked incredulously.

"You mean it's not right?" Riza asked innocently.

"You've got a head and a body," Roy muttered in reply.

"How about 'P,' then?"

"…One arm."

" 'F?'"

"Other arm."

" 'B?'"

"Are you serious, Riza? …One leg."

"Oh, so this is my last guess?" Riza tapped her chin. "Then how about… 'R?'"

"…And there goes the other leg."

"What a shame," Riza said solemnly; she was glad the darkness prevented Roy from glimpsing the smile on her face.

"Damn, Riza, you're cruel," Roy laughed, knowing her facial expression without needing to see it. "You let a guy hang when you knew what could have saved him."

"Well, I didn't like him that much," Riza replied. "You see, there's this other man I love, and I wouldn't want him to get jealous."

"Really? And what's this lucky man's name?" Roy inquired softly in Riza's ear.

She whispered back, "His name is—"

The lights flickered on.

"—What a surprise, sir," Riza switched subjects quickly. "The power's back. Now you can do your work!"

Roy stared at her for a moment before smiling and shaking his head. "Alright, Hawkeye."

The two headed back to their respective desks. Mustang twirled his pen for a few seconds, and then commented, "But in my opinion, you should start looking for another guy to love."

"What makes you say that, sir?" She raised an eyebrow at him.

"Well, 'What-a-surprise-sir' doesn't sound like the name of a winner to me." He smirked.

"I'll take that into consideration," she responded smoothly. "Just like what you should be doing with those forms, Colonel."

Roy laughed. "Whatever you say, Lieutenant."

**A/N: This chapter is a great example of how I can wander from one subject in the beginning to a completely different subject by the end XD Somehow, I got from inclement weather to a confession through hangman. Hope it still worked out. You could tell me in a REVIEW! :D **

**Oh, by the way, I'm going out of town until Wednesday, so I won't review reply till then, but by all means, that should NOT deter you from reviewing, yeah? ;)  
**


	12. 012: Proof

**A/N: This a cute chapter, in my opinion :3 I enjoyed writing it, so hopefully you'll enjoy reading it!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own FMA. Sordini's Store of Soups, on the other hand...  
**

Riza Hawkeye was sick.

Normally, a runny nose wouldn't be enough to keep her from the office. Havoc once declared that the plague couldn't even stop her.

But he hadn't said anything about the flu.

Riza was currently lying on the sofa, trying to ignore a splitting headache that insisted on keeping her from falling asleep. A box of tissues lay on the ground beside her, and a trash can next to that. Black Hayate sat dutifully on the other side of the trash can, and chanced an occasional sniff, but found nothing particularly interesting.

_Ugh. My nose is stuffed, I sneeze every five seconds, and my head is ringing. This is just perfect_, she thought irritably. Then she paused, furiously attempting to get her muddled brain to work. _Wait. Ringing?_

It took her another two seconds to realize that the ringing wasn't coming from her head, but from the telephone in the kitchen. Riza groaned softly. _I'll have to move the phone in here,_ she decided as she sat up slowly and clumsily wrapped her blanket around herself. _Or maybe teach Hayate to fetch._

She shuffled to the phone as fast as she could, hoping that whoever was calling wouldn't hang up anytime soon. At last, she managed to pick up the receiver and utter a hoarse "Hello?"

"Riza!" A cheerful voice greeted. "I guess you're not feeling that much better."

"Just another day or two, Roy, and I'll be back and good as—" Riza coughed several times, not finishing her sentence.

"Alright, alright, calm down. No need to hurry back. Just focus on getting well," Roy cautioned, trying to keep the worry out of his voice. "You sound like you're hacking up your lungs there, Riza. Should I come over?"

"I'm fine, I'm fine." Riza managed to get out. "Have you been doing your paperwork?"

"What? Of course I have," Roy replied smoothly. "What do you take me for, Riza, a slacker?"

"Yes," she stated bluntly. "And I know you're lying, too."

"Oh, come on. You think you can tell that just from my voice?" She could imagine him rolling his eyes.

"Of course I can," she chuckled. "And I also know that you have your bluffing face on."

"What're you talking about?" Roy snorted.

"Well, for starters, you have your eyebrows raised and a smirk the Cheshire cat would be jealous of." Riza smiled.

Roy stopped grinning and concentrated on his eyebrows to make sure they came down. "Huh. Now I know why you always win against me in poker. But I _did_ do my work this time." He felt his eyebrows go back up and silently cursed his previously unknown habits.

"Then prove it," Riza demanded before engaging in another coughing fit.

"I will," Roy promised. "I'll come by your place with the proof and some soup in five minutes."

He was about to hang up but she stopped him. "Roy, don't do that. Are you calling from work?" She was suddenly aware their entire conversation could've been tapped into by the higher-ups.

"I'm on lunch break," he assured her. "I'm in a phone booth outside a restaurant that has the most delicious chicken noodle soup you'll ever taste. I've got an hour before lunch is over, so that's plenty of time." He hung up before she could protest further.

Riza sighed and put down the phone. "He's such a...oh, I don't even know," she complained to her dog. He barked and nuzzled against her leg. She smiled and reached down to pet him. "Well put, Hayate."

* * *

"Door's open," Riza said as loudly as she dared when she heard a knock.

"Wow, Riza, you keep clean even when you're sick," Roy commented as he stepped into the tidy apartment.

"That's because I've been lying here all morning," she said dryly. "Except when you made me go all the way to the kitchen to pick up the phone."

"Sorry about that," Roy responded lightly, heading towards the kitchen. "This soup should make you feel better, though." He uncapped the container, grabbed a spoon from the silverware drawer, and headed back to the couch.

"Hm…" Riza sighed happily as she sipped the warm broth, feeling it sooth her throat. After she swallowed, she looked at Roy, who sat on the arm of the sofa. "Now, about that proof?"

"Here it is." Roy smiled and handed her a folded sheet of paper.

"Sordini's Store of Soups. Soup so good you'll never stop slurping," Riza read aloud.

"Other side," Roy interrupted her hastily.

She flipped to the other side of the flier. "I, Colonel Roy Mustang, do solemnly swear that I finished all my paperwork this morning. Signed, Roy Mustang." Riza shot him an amused look. "This is your proof?"

"Yup." Roy grinned. "I'd believe the man if I were you. I heard Roy Mustang is a very respectable person."

"What kind of respectable person would leave fine print at the bottom?" Riza squinted at the minuscule letters Roy had scribbled, but her eyes weren't working, courtesy of the headache still pounding on the sides of her skull.

"Oh, that just says that I miss my wonderful Lieutenant very much and would like her to get better as soon as possible." Roy plucked the paper out of Riza's hands and set it on the table.

Riza smirked at him. "You've got your poker face on again."

"Alright, alright, it doesn't really say that," Roy amended, "but that doesn't mean it isn't true."

"Eyebrows came down, smirk gone and replaced with a genuine smile." Riza observed with a grin. She lifted the soup container to her lips and drank some more.

Roy chuckled. "I guess I should get back to work now."

Riza raised an eyebrow at him. "Roy Mustang, suggesting he go back to work? I think you better get out of here—you must've become ill."

Roy made a face. "Ha ha. Very funny, Riza."

**A/N: I loved this chapter. It made me smile and stuff. But you know what would make me grin like the Cheshire cat? REVIEWS! :D Please?**


	13. 013: Betrayal

**A/N: Hm. I think I was trying to make a point with this one. Don't know how well it got across. Oh well. It's still a nice little read, so enjoy :)**

**Disclaimer: For the last time, I don't own FMA! Do you want me to go black belt on you? Yeah, that's what I thought. You may proceed to the story now.  
**

"Another excellent day at the shooting range, Hawkeye, if I do say so myself." Bradley turned to face her as she entered the room. "How many did you hit right on target? Twenty-four?"

The lieutenant glanced out the window. She could barely make out the range fourteen stories below, much less the silhouettes that were being shot at. The Fuhrer really did have exceptional eyesight. "Yes, sir," she replied. She walked over to the table to pour the Fuhrer a cup of tea. All was silent except for the steaming liquid splashing against the sides of the mug.

"Have you ever considered switching sides, Lieutenant?" Bradley asked suddenly, fixing her with an intense one-eyed stare.

"Never, sir," she answered stiffly, placing the cup down in front of the Fuhrer. "I can't betray the colonel."

Bradley lowered his gaze to stare contemplatively at his reflection in the surface of the honey-colored tea. "What makes you say that? Loyalty?"

"...Yes, sir." _Although another "L" word might be more appropriate._

"Then please explain to me, Lieutenant," Bradley continued, "what you would do if Mustang betrayed _you._" His single green eye wandered upwards to see her expression.

"He wouldn't do that, sir," she asserted firmly.

"Just suppose he did," the Fuhrer insisted.

"I say this with all due respect, Fuhrer-Mustang isn't that type of person." She resisted the urge to sigh. She hadn't thought Bradley could be so persistent—and with this topic, of all things.

"Pardon me, Hawkeye." Bradley held up a hand as if to ward off her aggravated thoughts. "I'm just trying to understand how humans can have such blind faith in each other. Even as people fall all around you, you still believe that your pathetic little group can keep standing."

"It's not that I refuse to comprehend such a thought, sir," the lieutenant corrected him. "I've wondered about it many times, actually. But I _know_ that it would never happen."

"That's called foolishness, Lieutenant," Bradley stated bluntly.

"No, sir." Hawkeye looked him straight in the eye. "It's called trust."

"Ah…" For a moment Bradley almost reminded her of her grandfather, with crinkles at the corners of his eyes and a warm smile hidden underneath his mustache.

But it was artificial warmth, created from the thousands of real loving smiles residing inside him. "Unfortunately, I can't trust anyone, Hawkeye," he commented. "Trusting in others leads to death and other unpleasant affairs."

_Will you follow me, Hawkeye?_

"That is possible," she admitted calmly.

_Yes, sir. Even to Hell._

"And yet, you still trust the Flame Alchemist?" Bradley sounded bemused at such a concept.

_Please stay with me, Riza._

"Perhaps you could have understood at one point, sir," Hawkeye smiled faintly, "when you'd still been human."

_Of course, Roy. Did you really need to ask?_

"Indeed," the homunculus agreed, taking a sip of his tea.

…_Thank you._

**A/N: I tried a little flashback thingy at the end, if you couldn't figure out what the italics were for. Hope it wasn't too confusing. Why don't you tell me about it in a review? :D Please?**_  
_


	14. 014: Covered Eyes

**A/N: My inbox has been too inactive lately. I'm hungry for reviews. This one's a decent length, and probably better written since happiness and humor is more my style. Unfortunately, Royai sometimes calls for angst and all that good (er, bad) stuff. Oh well. Enjoy! ^^**

**Disclaimer: I'm honestly getting tired of saying I don't own FMA. Just figure it out yourself already.  
**

"…Fullmetal."

"What, Colonel Bastard?" Ed shot an annoyed look at Mustang over his shoulder.

Said Colonel Bastard resisted the urge to snap his fingers and burn the impudent teenager sprawled on his couch to a crisp. Instead, he replied evenly, "I'd like you to do something for me."

"What else is new?" Ed groaned. "Day in and day out, mission after mission after mission. Al and I happen to have our own lives, but _no_, you just have to—"

"It'll be quick," Mustang promised.

"Fine. What is it?" Ed sighed and walked over to the colonel's desk.

"Here." Mustang handed him a folded piece of paper.

Ed unfolded it, glanced at what was written, and raised an eyebrow. "You want me to do _this_?"

"I assume you're capable of walking four blocks, Fullmetal," Mustang replied. "If it takes you more than an hour, I'll have to conclude that, quite frankly, your legs are too short to quickly travel such a distance."

"Hey!" Ed pointed an accusing finger centimeters from Mustang's nose. "You're asking for a favor here, Mustang. I wouldn't go around mouthing off if I were you." A grin spread slowly across his face. "In fact, I think you should give something in return, Mr. Flame Alchemist. Equivalent exchange, yeah?"

Mustang sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. There was no end to the horrors of dealing with the Fullmetal Alchemist. He had concluded long ago that Ed was the reason for his recently acquired need for coffee in the _middle_ of the day. "Very well, Edward. If you do this for me, I'll…" He stopped, unable to utter his next words.

Ed smirked. "Spit it out already, Mustang. You look like you've got a stick shoved up your ass."

"Eloquently put, Fullmetal," the colonel winced and finally offered his side of the deal. "I promise I won't insult you for the rest of your stay at Central."

"Great," Ed responded perkily. He slipped the paper in his pocket and strode out the door.

"…I need some coffee," Mustang muttered to himself.

* * *

"Hawkeye!" Mustang came into the file room.

"Sir?" The lieutenant turned around, several folders in hand.

"Would you accompany me for a moment?" He plucked the papers from her grasp and set them on the table. "Work can wait. Those aren't due for a couple of days now, anyway."

"You told me to get those, sir," Hawkeye pointed out as he steered her out of the room.

"Did I? I don't recall." Mustang guided her around a corner.

"Sir, where are we going?" Hawkeye asked, thoroughly confused at her superior's behavior.

"Just for a walk." He suddenly placed his hands over her eyes, causing her to stop.

"What are you doing, Colonel?" she demanded. "Are you feeling alright? You've been acting weirdly all morning."

"I feel perfectly fine, Lieutenant," he assured her. "Just keep going. I won't let you bump into anything, I promise."

The two went through several more hallways before Mustang stopped in front of his office door. He opened it and ushered his lieutenant into the room before uncovering her eyes.

"SURPRISE!"

Hawkeye blinked, unable to comprehend the scene before her. A bright banner declaring "HAPPY BIRTHDAY!" hung above her coworkers' grinning faces. Ed and Al stood in the center, Edward holding a birthday cake in his hands.

She opened her mouth, and then closed it. Mustang smirked at her speechlessness. "Happy birthday, Hawkeye. The sooner you get your voice back the sooner we can celebrate."

Ed set the cake on the lieutenant's desk and Al began cutting it. Breda grabbed drinks from behind the file cabinets and set them on Falman's desk. Fuery brought out paper plates and cups while Falman took out utensils from his desk drawer. Havoc came up and handed her a gift wrapped box.

"What about all the work we still have to do?" she finally managed to get out, absentmindedly accepting the present that was placed in her hands.

"It's all done." Havoc motioned at Mustang, who was busy ordering everyone else around. "The colonel did half of it himself."

Hawkeye gingerly tore off the wrapping paper and lifted the lid of the box to discover a brand new pistol lying within.

"A present from all of us," Havoc grinned. "We all chipped in. Well, except for Fullmetal and his brother, but they bought the cake, so it's all good."

"Thank you," Hawkeye murmured, still in shock at the extent Mustang and the others had gone to wish her a happy birthday.

"Everything was the colonel's idea," Havoc informed her. He leaned in close and winked. "He might be willing to give you _another _kind of birthday present, if you know what I mean."

"And I'd love to test out this new gun, if _you_ know what _I_ mean." She raised an eyebrow at him.

Havoc stepped back, grinning nervously. "Enjoy the party, Lieutenant. You deserve it."

Hawkeye wandered over to her desk, where Mustang was waiting with a slice of cake. "Happy birthday," he smiled, handing her the plate.

"Thank you, Roy," she said quietly, accepting the pastry. "I don't need all this." She looked up at him and smirked a little. "The amount of paperwork you completed is enough of a present for me."

"But not enough for _me_." He smiled back. "You're a wonderful woman, Riza. So naturally, you need a special celebration. Just relax and enjoy, alright?"

"I'll try." She took a bite of pastry. "Hm. Edward's pretty good at choosing cake."

"It was probably Alphonse," Mustang replied casually.

"Hey Mustang," Ed came up to him. "Could you help me get my drink from the top of the file cabinet? _I don't think I can reach it._"

Hawkeye stared at the boy a moment; she hadn't thought Edward was ever capable of admitting that he was short, much less without a pained expression on his face. She glanced at Mustang and noticed that his jaws were clenched, he was breathing heavily through his nose, and his face was turning red; but no jab at Edward's height left his mouth. Finally, it dawned on her.

She flashed a small smile at Edward before putting on a concerned expression. "Colonel, you can go to the restroom if you want. You don't have to hold it."

Ed's laughter could be heard throughout all of Central Headquarters.

**A/N: I like to have little Royai moments in the middle of a whole story, if you haven't noticed. It makes me feel more complete that way, I guess. Sometimes I'll have a whole page of back story before I get to the good stuff. So yeah. Thanks for reading!  
**


	15. 015: The Scent of Blood

**A/N: Oh wow, I love you guys so much. 22 reviews for the last chapter since Friday! All you reviewers are so wonderful! Including StarPrincess999, who reviewed every chapter in two days. Awesomeness cookie to you! :) Anyway, I was so happy I decided to post early. This is a bit of a downer chapter, so I guess it's good to get it out of the way. **

**Disclaimer: I think you know what goes here. You don't? Fine. I don't own FMA. Get it? Got it? Good.  
**

With a soft grunt, Major Mustang sat up, unable to sleep. He'd been lying awake for the past few hours, desperately hoping to eventually drift off into the realm of dreams, but to no avail. It seemed he could never escape the hellhole that was Ishbal.

Slipping silently out of his tent, Mustang glanced up at the cold white moon glaring back at him. He inhaled, inadvertently sucking in the miniscule grains of desert sand that blew along with the wind. He resisted the urge to sneeze.

The major stepped forward, the sound of his boots muffled. He glanced at a nearby sand dune and saw a lone figure sitting at its peak. Mustang decided to keep the other insomniac company and trudged slowly towards the other soldier.

"Riza," he muttered, surprised, as he crested the top of the dune.

She inclined her head slightly at his voice. "Oh, hello…Roy." She seemed hesitant to use his first name, but did so anyway since he would be the only one to hear it.

"Couldn't sleep?" He asked, plopping down next to her. He resisted the urge to hug her tightly. It was just the other day when he discovered that Riza had joined the military, and was now one of the top snipers in Ishbal. He was relieved that she hadn't been hurt—yet.

"No…"She gazed out into the lonely desert and at the ruins that had once been an Ishbalan village. They sat in silence for a while, comforted slightly by each other's presence.

Finally, Riza spoke. "Have you…killed a lot of people?"

Roy stared down at his hands, currently ungloved, but seemingly stained with the blood of the countless innocents that he'd slaughtered. "…Yes."

"Do…do you ever…see them again? In your dreams?"

"Sometimes. If I sleep at all." He rubbed his hands together, knowing that the crimson color he saw wasn't really there; nevertheless, he was still painfully aware of it and what it represented.

"They…they come at me. Crying and moaning, their hands outstretched…I try to shoot them, but they're already dead. They get closer and closer…scratching, clawing, choking, suffocating…" Riza held her head in her hands, fighting off tears. "And I can smell it, too…that metallic odor…so heavy…the scent of blood, everywhere. I'm practically drowning in it. I can still smell it, now." She lifted her head to stare at Roy, a pleading look in her eyes. "I don't know what's real and what's not anymore. It's all just one big nightmare."

Wordlessly, he grasped her hand and guided it to his chest. She looked at him, confused.

"Do you feel that?" Roy asked softly. "My heart. Can you feel it beating?"

She nodded.

"That means I'm alive, Riza. I'm real. Not a dream."

She let out a tired chuckle. "That's a relief. If only you'd appear in my nightmares and make them go away."

"Sorry." He squeezed her hand comfortingly. "But I'm here now." She hesitated for a moment, then leaned against him, head on his shoulder. Her breathing slowed, and eventually she fell asleep. Roy glanced down; her peaceful face was enough to bring a smile to his own. Sighing contentedly, he felt his eyelids become heavy. He rested his head on Riza's and felt the real word slip away.

They were only two small people in the vast, lonely desert.

But they still had each other.

**A/N: Not funny, but still cute, I guess. I like taking the themes and twisting them in a way nobody's thought of before, but with a prompt like "the scent of blood," it's kind of hard to joke about it. What do you think?**


	16. 016: ReachingUnreachable

**A/N: I had something completely different written for this a week ago, but then another idea struck me and I rewrote the whole thing XD I think it's better, so hope you enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Fullmetal Alchemist. This disclaimer has been brought to you by...noodles. Because I like noodles.  
**

Hawkeye came back to Mustang's office after delivering a stack of files and was greeted with a rare sight.

"Colonel, you're busy?" _I can't believe it. You're doing paperwork without me pointing a gun at your head._

"No time to talk, Hawkeye. The Fuhrer himself needs these forms as soon as possible." _Shut up. If I don't get these done, my goals could be ruined._

"Sorry, sir. I won't bother you anymore." _I'm still in shock. No words can describe the disbelief I'm feeling._

She sat down at her desk and began working on a new pile of papers.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him glaring sideways at her. _Ha ha, very funny. Is it _that_ unusual of an occurrence for me to be doing work?_

The corner of her mouth quirked up the slightest bit. _Willingly, yes. I'm enjoying this._

His eyes narrowed a little. _Oh, sure. Gloat all you want. Stop bothering me and get to work._

She raised an eyebrow even as she continued filling out the file in front of her. _Oh no. _You're_ telling _me_ to work? The world's going to end soon._

He sighed, the sound barely audible. _I'm sure you're exaggerating at least a little bit._

She snorted softly. _Are you kidding? I try just asking you to do your work, but you pretend to be deaf. Only a pistol might be able to reach you, but sometimes you still remain unreachable._

He smiled faintly. _I can't help it when my hearing fails me randomly._

She shook her head, the movement almost unnoticeable. _Roy Mustang, you are an incredibly frustrating person to work with._

He stayed completely still, with the exception of his hand, which was moving furiously across the paper as he raced to complete the allotted work. But she saw the twinkle in his eye. _Why, thank you._

She rolled her eyes as she placed her finished sheet on top of her ever-growing completed stack. _That wasn't a compliment._

He placed his pen down triumphantly, smirking at her. _I know_. Out loud, he declared, "All done." _Finally._

"Would you like me to deliver those for you, sir?" _Now, was that so hard?_

"I'd appreciate that, Lieutenant. I'll be busy with other things." _I finished in record time. I need a break._

"Of course, Colonel." _"Busy" indeed. I guess you can take a nap until I come back._ She collected the papers from his desk and turned to walk out the door.

"Thanks, Hawkeye," he called after her. _Walk slowly. I want to take a _long_ nap._

"No problem, sir," she replied over her shoulder. _I'll go faster just because of that. Enjoy your nap while you can._

Mustang exhaled, cheeks puffing out slightly. _Damn._

**A/N: I hope that wasn't confusing or anything. Basically, the italicized sentences are the real/hidden meaning behind what they say/do. Thanks for reading!**_  
_


	17. 017: Scars

**A/N: Whoot! It's my Sweet Sixteen today ^^ And being the awesome person that I am (XD), I'm posting a chapter today :) I guess it's not really that funny, but still. You're getting one today and on Friday, so be happy! And enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: I asked for FMA on my birthday, but no...  
**

"You call this a report?" Mustang looked up from a sloppily written stack of papers stuffed hastily into a folder.

Ed yawned. "Hey, I just got out of the hospital today. Count yourself lucky, Colonel Bastard. I could barely pick up a pen before, much less write with it." He patted his side and winced. "That's definitely gonna be a scar."

"Perhaps you should've stayed longer, Edward," Hawkeye commented, glancing at his discharge papers. "The doctor says that you were supposed to be in bed for at least another week, but he let you go due to 'extenuating circumstances.' "

The Fullmetal Alchemist shot her a wicked grin. "'Extenuating circumstances?' That's a nice way to put it." He turned and strode out the door, lifting a hand in farewell. "See you later, guys. Al's already waiting outside." The door slammed behind him.

"Is he going to be alright? His wound still seemed to be hurting him," Fuery observed.

"Aw, don't worry," Havoc waved off Fuery's concern. "He can deal with it. And Al's a sensible guy—he won't let his brother overwork or anything."

"Yeah, Ed's a tough kid. He'll be fine," Breda chimed in. "He'd probably laugh if he knew you were worried about him."

Fuery nodded slightly, convinced by his coworkers. Mustang, on the other hand, had missed the entire exchange; he had been mulling over Ed's statement: _"That's definitely gonna be a scar." _ He gazed at the poorly written report without really seeing it, lost in the days when gunfire and screams rang in his ears from dawn to dusk…

* * *

"Burn it." It was a command, not a request.

"I…I can't." He clenched his hands, trembling. She couldn't possibly be asking for him to burn her. Not after everyone else he'd torched to ashes…

"Please, Mr. Mustang," she said quietly, so he had to strain to hear her. "It's for the best. Then nobody else will ever…do what you can do."

"It's over now," he reasoned with her. "There's no need for my flame alchemy, or for anybody else to learn it."

She held him with her amber gaze. "You don't understand, Roy," she whispered. "I can't go through the day knowing that this horrible thing is on my back, for all to see. The people I killed I can forget about, at least for a little while. But this is always with me. And I want to be rid of it. Forever."

He tried to keep from crying, but he saw his own teary eyes reflected in hers. He couldn't burn her. He'd gone through this war—no, this genocide—hiding behind his flames, keeping everyone at bay with a wall of fire. Burning her with those same flames would be like pushing her away. And he wanted desperately to keep her close. "I can't…scar you…like that," he managed to choke out.

She offered him a sad smile. "It won't be a scar, Roy. The tattoo is a scar. Once you've burned it…I'll be like a phoenix...rising from my own ashes."

He shook his head adamantly, looking away. "I won't, Riza. I can't."

* * *

But he had. The thought of her suffering just because of what was on her back was more than enough to convince him in the end. He couldn't help her deal with the nightmares she had at night, but if burning her scar would help, he'd do it. And that's why he had.

"Yo, Colonel," Havoc heaved a large stack of paperwork onto Mustang's desk. "Got a little present for you."

"Oh…uh…thanks." Mustang blinked, still struggling to come out of his daydream.

Havoc had noticed him staring at Hawkeye. He winked, then leaned in close and whispered in Mustang's ear, "We all know you want her, Colonel, but just looking isn't enough. You need to really commit yourself."

"What the—?" Mustang lurched back, almost falling out of his chair.

"Yeah, that's right, Colonel," Havoc called over his shoulder as he walked back to his desk, "You've got to have all of that done by tonight. Shocker, isn't it?" The other officers snickered at Mustang's still-dazed expression, but immediately hushed when Hawkeye got up to insist the Colonel get back to his work. Mustang sputtered a reply and attempted to right himself once more.

Havoc grinned, commenting to himself, "Ah, love…"

**A/N: Havoc is one of my favorite characters. And he seems like the perfect guy to set those two up (if not Hughes). So anyway, thanks for reading!**


	18. 018: I don't want to realize

**A/N: My normal update :) Not much to say...I guess this would be my attempt at kind-of fluff? Anyway, enjoy!**

**Oh, by the way, something has been itching in the back of my mind...if any of you have seen the last episode of FMA Brotherhood, ROY HAS A MUSTACHE. I cannot get over it. I may write a prompt concerning it soon, if the right one comes up XD **

**Disclaimer: Uh...not much to say. Except that FMA still isn't mine T.T  
**

Waves splashed gently on the fine sand shore, leaving behind small shell treasures as they receded. Seagulls called raucously as they circled in the clear blue sky. The long green fronds of towering palm trees swayed with the soft wind, revealing the enticing, coffee-colored coconuts that lay beneath. The sun shone brightly over all, as if to declare, _yes, this is the perfect day, and this is the perfect place to spend it. _And the only two people on the entire beach agreed wholeheartedly.

Roy sighed contentedly, an arm wrapped around Riza's shoulders. Her beautiful, straw-colored hair was no longer pinned against her head. He lazily twirled a golden tendril around his fingers, enjoying her presence. She leaned against him, head resting on his shoulder.

"Nice, isn't it?" Riza murmured, her eyes half closed. She intertwined his fingers with her own.

"It's perfect," Roy agreed, planting a kiss on top of her head. He smiled. "This is certainly turning out to be a wonderful day." He sighed and continued absentmindedly, "So wonderful that…I don't want to realize."

She shifted a little. "You don't want to realize what?"

He frowned slightly. "I…I don't know. It just kind of came out."

"Well, we have the whole day." Riza looked up at him and smiled. "Whatever you forgot can wait until tomorrow."

"Yeah, you're right." Roy grinned back. "As always." But in the back of his mind he could still feel something nagging constantly, _almost_ preventing him from focusing on other, more important things.

He stared out across the ocean, where the water met the sky. A dolphin jumped and twirled before diving back into the sea. Even though it was far away, Roy could see the sun sparkling on the dolphin's slick gray skin. _This is almost unreal…_

With a start, he realized what he hadn't wanted to. He glanced down at Riza and whispered sadly, "This is a dream, isn't it?"

"Hm?" She snuggled closer to him. "Of course not. Just because we finally get time to spend together doesn't mean it has to be a dream."

"Are you sure?" But his worries were already washing away with the waves.

"Yes," she replied sleepily. "I'm always right, aren't I, sir?"

He laughed. "Of course." …_Hold on. "Sir?"

* * *

_

"Sir. Wake up. It's time to leave."

Mustang groggily lifted his head from his desk. "What? Already?"

"Yes." Hawkeye gestured at the clock. "I was quite impressed that you managed to stay awake almost the entire workday. You were only a couple minutes off."

"Hm…I thoroughly enjoyed those minutes." Roy yawned. Then he glared accusingly at her. "You were wrong, though."

Riza raised an eyebrow, the ghost of a smirk on her face. "Me? Wrong? Only in your dreams, sir."

**A/N: Grr...I couldn't figure out a good way to end this. I added and deleted and switched stuff around till I was _sort of_ satisfied. **

**Poor Roy...but not to worry! One day, his dream will become a reality :) Thanks for reading!**


	19. 019: Things one cannot understand

**A/N: Augh! Sorry for updating late (though technically it's still Friday...it's just that nobody's up at this time -.-)! Life got in the way and I forgot to post this morning before I left home...well, here it is. Hope you enjoy! **

**Oh yeah, this is Falman's POV. Just saying.  
**

**Disclaimer: If by "own" you mean "am totally in love with," then yes, I own FMA :D  
**

Love: noun. Definition: a profoundly tender, passionate affection for another person. Perhaps a feeling of warm personal attachment or deep affection, as for a parent, child, or friend. Or to put it bluntly, a sexual passion or desire. Synonyms: adulation, devotion, fondness, infatuation, yearning. Antonyms: dislike, hatred.

Devotion? I'd say I'm definitely devoted to Colonel Mustang. I will do anything to help him achieve his dream of rising to the top and making this country a better place. But do I love him? My answer: a negative used to express dissent, denial, or refusal, as in response to a question or request. In other words: no.

I think my colleagues would agree as well. We will stand behind Mustang wherever he goes, but none of us would be willing to go to bed with him.

Except maybe Lieutenant Hawkeye. Havoc and Breda are requiring all of us in the office to bet on when the lieutenant and Mustang will become a couple. I wouldn't be surprised if they have succeeded in getting all of Central HQ to pour their paychecks into the betting pool as well.

But I don't know what time frame to place my money on. People have staked claims ranging from next Monday to the next decade. If I want to win, I need to choose carefully.

Unfortunately, all the knowledge I've compiled thus far is useless. I could try applying statistics to the situation—the entire headquarters should contain enough couples for a decent-sized sample. But somehow I have a feeling that those two, if they ever did end up together, would definitely be an outlier.

The root of the problem is that I've never observed any "love" between the lieutenant and the colonel before. Their relationship can be boiled down to, more often than not, a strict teacher and her lazy student. There is no warm affection or infatuation. Perhaps a bit of yearning on Mustang's side, but he's always flirting with women, so it's almost a given.

I've heard others discuss this, but they don't seem to be facing the dilemma I am. They talk about the secret looks, the way she's always looking out for him and standing behind him, the deep understanding they seem to share, the "vibe" that's in the air whenever the two of them walk by. "It's only a matter of time," the observers declare. "Soon. Very soon."

But the definition of "love" does not mention secret looks or "vibes." It does not say that if a couple is "meant to be," then they are in love. If it isn't in the definition, it can't be "love," correct?

People tell me that I have my head buried in books too often. "Reading the instruction manual for life doesn't mean you're prepared to live it," Havoc told me once (though he wasn't being serious-if there _were_ such a thing, I'd have studied it cover to cover already). Apparently not everything in the world falls into their appropriate slots as defined by Webster's Dictionary. There will always be things that one cannot understand. So try as I might, I can't figure out the difference between "love" and love.

Which is quite unfortunate, really. I suppose that I can bid my paycheck a tearful farewell.

**A/N: Eh...I feel like this comes off as a bit boring, but Falman strikes me as that type of person (with a few quirks thrown in from time to time). **

**All definitions from the lovely dictionary . com !  
**

**Oh, I forgot to thank you guys for giving me more than 100 reviews! THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU! You wouldn't _believe_ how much it means to me :) Cute Royai cookies to all!**

**Thanks so much for reading!  
**


	20. 020:  Murderer

**A/N: I'm outta town till Sunday, but lucky for you I don't leave till later today, so I'm still posting regularly :) Well, this comes off as a bit depressing at first, but it lightens up later, I promise. This chapter starts off a succession of happier, funnier ones, so look forward to those! Enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: Do I have to spell it out for you? Fine. I-D-O-N-O-T-O-W-N-F-M-A.  
**

It started out as the regular exchange of insults that usually occurred whenever Colonel Mustang and the Fullmetal Alchemist met. But that day, something was off. Perhaps it was because the colonel was feeling especially surly that day and had growled, "Now those were words your mother would be ashamed of hearing, Fullmetal."

On the other hand, Ed's nerves were extremely raw at the moment for some reason or other, and Mustang's jab stung sharper than usual. So Fullmetal dug deep into the recesses of his mind for any possible dirt that could be used for an appropriate comeback. Without thinking, he blurted, "Yeah? I don't think a _murderer_ of thousands of Ishbalans would even _begin_ to understand how my mom thinks!"

Mustang was so stunned that all he could do was stare at Fullmetal, mouth slightly open, a shocked expression on his face. The entire room was hushed; no one dared to even blink.

Ed was desperately wishing that he could take his words back. The look on the colonel's face was enough to tell him that he had gone too far. "I…uh…I mean…" he murmured helplessly, trying to make amends but failing. He glanced at Hawkeye, but her face remained impassive and unreadable. Was she disappointed in Ed? Disgusted, even? Regretting that she had suffered through the recounting of her Ishbalan experiences only to have the information misused so badly? The other officers stayed quiet, and Al stood so still that he seemed like any other lifeless suit of armor.

Finally, Hawkeye nudged Mustang's shoulder almost imperceptibly. That seemed to snap the colonel out of his stupor. He quickly recovered and his signature smirk was soon in place once more. "Very well, then, Fullmetal. I've kept you long enough." He lifted a packet of papers from his desk and held them out. "Here's what you'll need to know for your next mission. I expect you back in a month," Mustang continued smoothly, as if no argument had ever happened.

"Uh—ah—yeah, sure, Colonel," Ed managed, taking the packet hesitantly. He pursed his lips, then sighed through his nose and rubbed the back of his neck uncomfortably. "Look, Mustang, I didn't mean that. I'm really…I'm really…"

"It's fine, Fullmetal," Mustang cut him off with a nonchalant wave. "Honestly, do I have to show you out the door, or are you old enough to find your way out yourself?"

Ed's face broke into a relieved grin. "Nah, don't trouble your old bones with that, Colonel Bastard. I know how hard arthritis can be for you. I'll see you in a month." With that, the door closed and the Elric brothers were off once more.

* * *

Mustang sighed heavily as he plopped into the passenger seat of the car. Hawkeye got behind the wheel and started the engine. She drove for a bit before asking, "Are you feeling alright, sir?"

"Fine, fine." Mustang couldn't help slouching a little. "The kid caught me off guard, but he didn't really mean it. I mean, he was actually thinking about sincerely apologizing to me afterwards. To _me_, of all people."

"I wasn't asking about that." Riza saw his somewhat defeated posture out of the corner of her eye. "I mean, are you still beating yourself up over it?"

Roy laughed humorlessly. "It's true, though. I _am_ a murderer. Killing in the name of the state doesn't justify it."

"…We all did what we had to," she replied softly, keeping her eyes focused on the road. "You have to keep moving on or all those lives would have been taken for nothing."

"Yeah, yeah," he growled, frustrated. He ran his hand agitatedly through his hair. "But it's just this big lump in my gut that will never leave. It's the nightmare I have every single damn night."

"I know," Riza said simply. The two drove in silence for a while, the car making a soft humming noise as it sped along.

After awhile, Roy chuckled, his tone lighter. "Look at us, Riza. We've had this same conversation so many times. We must be getting old."

"Speak for yourself," Riza smiled slightly. "I'm younger than you." Roy snorted. She shrugged. "I guess talking is just our way of coping."

"When do you think we'll get over it?" Roy leaned the tiniest bit closer to her, so his elbow touched hers.

"I don't know," she answered honestly.

"Then we should stay together until then, right?" Roy reasoned. "Just so we can help each other cope," he added teasingly.

"Of course," she replied, smirking a little. "No other reason, right?"

He grinned, satisfied. "Why would there be another reason?"

**A/N: There, short and sweet, I hope. Anyway, I'm one-fifth done now, so a big thank you to all of you awesome reviewers who have made it this far with me! Thanks for reading!**


	21. 021: Confession

**A/N: Heh...this is a great example of how I took the theme as a prompt and then just ran with it. I ran very...very...far... XD Hope you enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: I'm attempting to write/draw my own manga, but it's not nearly as great as FMA. So obviously, I don't own what Arakawa does. Darn.  
**

No one knew how it got there. The evening before, nothing had been out of place. The next morning, lo and behold, it had appeared, nailed by the doorway. An innocent-looking wooden box with a slot in the top and a small sign fastened above it. It read:

**CONFESSION BOX**

**Have a grievance? **

**Need to get something off your chest?**

**Simply write it down and insert here!**

**Anonymous submissions accepted.**

**Confidentiality may or may not be insured.**

The officers were wary of it at first. The last line was particularly worrying. But after lunch, Hawkeye herself slipped a folded piece of paper into the box as she walked past it towards her desk. That was the go-ahead signal for the rest of the men. By the end of the day all of them had turned in at least one submission.

The box stayed on the wall for the next week, untouched and unopened. Any quarrels that erupted inevitably ended up with both sides angrily shoving a crumpled sheet into the container. Sometimes they would wait a few days, so the submission could be made more quietly, but one thing was clear: the box had become a wonderful thing, almost holy.

When Ed and Al came strolling into the office, they noticed the box almost immediately. Ed laughed and made several hastily scribbled submissions. The power of the box was ruined, however, since he read aloud whatever he was writing, all of which was directed towards the colonel. Mustang calmly scrawled on a stray sheet of paperwork in reply and slid it into the slot with nothing more than a smirk. Then Al sighed and asked politely for pen and paper, so he could join in on the fun as well.

Over the next few days, everyone started to get a little fidgety. They all wanted to know what had been written and submitted. The Elrics were in town for a while, and there was nothing that perked Ed's interest more than that little box mounted on the wall—he desperately wanted to know how the colonel had insulted him. He threatened to violently open "the damn thing" himself if nobody else did.

Surprisingly, the box was gone the next morning. In its place was a single sheet of paper, neatly typewritten. The officers and the Elrics gathered eagerly around it. Comments, snickers, and cries of indignation began.

"What the? I don't owe anyone 5,000 cenz!" Havoc said indignantly, glaring pointedly at Breda, who was conveniently looking the other way.

"Since when am I a runty little toddler that needs to drink his milk to grow?" Ed demanded. "Was that the best you could do, Colonel Bastard?"

"Keep reading," Mustang suggested coolly. "I put in other ones as well." Further protests from the Fullmetal Alchemist soon followed.

"Ah ha!" Fuery exclaimed, jabbing his finger at a line of print. "Someone _did_ sit on my glasses and break them! And you told me they probably cracked themselves because I was so jittery from my coffee!" He looked accusingly at Havoc, who shrugged.

"Al, wishing that Mustang and I will stop fighting is like wishing for the world to end—it isn't going to happen," Ed informed his brother. Al just sighed.

"I can't believe it," Falman choked. "Someone took my dictionary and shredded it! They thought it was a gigantic pile of paperwork and wanted to get rid of it? I'm…I'm…at a loss…" He retreated to his desk so he could sulk.

"Alright," Mustang stared his subordinates down one by one, "who confessed to stealing my sandwich at lunch last week? Own up, now."

"Hey, you can't blame them," Ed laughed. "They said they were hungry!"

"Who put this in?" Hawkeye demanded quietly, dangerously. Everyone fell silent as they read the text outlined by her finger.

"'I love Roy. I adore him so much that I wanna get in bed with him and…'" Ed stopped reading aloud and his face turned deep red as he continued silently. Fuery coughed uncomfortably and sheepishly turned his gaze elsewhere. The others inched away from Hawkeye, who was fuming with an incredibly deathly atmosphere surrounding her.

Finally, Havoc ventured a comment. "What's wrong, Lieutenant? Worried you'll have competition now?"

Hawkeye glared daggers at him, shaking with rage, seeming to contemplate if he was worth killing. She apparently decided against it, and instead replied through gritted teeth, "Obviously, the person who wrote…_this_…wanted to make it seem like it was me. And when I find out who did it…" She trailed off ominously, but the unspoken meaning was clear.

"I'm going back to work," Havoc announced cheerily, the false joy barely masking the fear in his voice. Breda hastily agreed. Fuery scrambled to his desk as well, and Falman immediately busied himself with straightening the pens on a nearby tabletop. The Elric brothers made a quick exit.

"A word with you, _sir,_" Hawkeye hissed as she stalked out of the room. Mustang followed her, a satisfied smirk on his face.

Still seething, she led him to an empty workroom and slammed the door behind them.

"Honestly, Riza, I was going to wait, but if you want me _that_ bad…" Roy laughed.

Her finger twitched madly on the trigger of the pistol at her hip. "I _knew_ it was you." She narrowed her eyes at him.

"Maybe I should've written it more subtly," Roy mused. "I'll admit it wasn't that believable. You're never that straightforward with what you want to do to me."

"Oh, there are _many _things I want to do to you right now," she growled. "Shooting you between the eyes is always an option, but strangling is so much more hands-on. Maybe I'll blow out your knees first, and then—"

"Calm down, Riza." He held up his hands nervously. "Damn, I didn't think you'd get _this_ pissed off."

She had blown off some steam now, but was still fingering the safety of her gun. "Well, Roy, I've got to say—in all the years I've known you, and among all the idiotic things you've done, this 'confession box' has got to be the most—"

"—brilliant thing I've come up with, I know," he interrupted her. "It's just a joke, alright, Riza? I'm sorry it upset you this much, but it was all in good fun."

She snorted. "I will decide when I want to be part of your fantasies, okay? No more of…this."

"Well, the sooner you decide, the better," he grinned winningly at her. "Then we'll both be happy."

"We'll see," Riza replied vaguely. She would have smiled a little if she wasn't still so agitated about his prank. She opened the door and was about to walk out, then paused and turned. "Oh, by the way. 'I'm sorry I took the colonel's sandwich at lunch today. I couldn't help myself—I was so hungry,'" she quoted perfectly with a smirk.

Roy shook his head with a resigned grin. "I knew I recognized that handwriting. Shame on you, Lieutenant."

"Well, after what you did, sir, I believe you still owe me at least a week's worth of sandwiches," she replied as she stepped out into the hallway once more.

"Fine," he agreed. "Ham and cheese fine with you?"

"That would be lovely, Colonel."

**A/N:...And we have a happy ending! Yay! I've actually put little references to other chapters of this fic in here. If you saw them all (I counted three), you get a virtual hug and ten plates of Royai cookies (I don't suggest eating them at once-a stomach ache is the last way you'd want to celebrate)! Thanks for reading!**


	22. 022: God

**A/N: Aah, sorry for updating almost-late! Life was going along swimmingly (why the weird word, you ask? Because my sister is currently sitting beside me playing Fish Tycoon on her friend's iPad) when I suddenly realized that I had to post the next chapter ^^` This is one of my favorites, too, since it has Hughes in it, and who DOESN'T love Hughes? Anyway, without further ado, here is the chapter! Enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own FMA. Now stop stalling and start reading the good stuff!  
**

Roy sighed heavily into his drink. "…I suppose I should thank you."

Maes waved a carefree hand. "No need, Roy. I could tell you needed to loosen up after this whole Scar business, and where better to relax than at a bar?"

Roy groaned softly at the mention of the alchemist serial killer. "Sometimes I wish Scar would just take his god and go on a long hike across the sea. And then get eaten by a shark, or a school of minnows."

"Don't we all wish that?" Maes agreed solemnly.

Roy pointedly ignored the woman who had just sat down next to him, even when she batted her eyelashes attractively. He exhaled audibly through his nose. "And right now I wish that you'd picked a better place than a crowded pub for me to 'loosen up.'"

"You need to get out more. I'm doing you a favor." Maes gestured grandly around the room. "There're lots of pretty women here, Roy. At least _one_ of them could be a potential wife."

Roy rolled his eyes. "Not this again."

"Just think about it for a moment," the irrepressible man insisted. "If you get a wife, you can have a kid _almost_ as cute as Elysia!" Roy promptly found himself face-to-face with a glossy photograph. "I mean, look at her! Isn't she just so _endearing_ in that dress, sitting in the grass and laughing so adorably? And the sun was shining on her face _just right_, so I couldn't resist—"

"You can _never_ resist," Roy complained good-naturedly, pushing the photo away. He did a quick scan of the room, letting his slight disgust show. "Look, even if I _wanted_ to have a relationship with someone, it wouldn't be with anyone _here_."

"Oh," Maes winked conspiratorially, "so you already have someone."

"I didn't say that!" Roy protested.

"I'm gonna take a leak," Maes announced abruptly, cutting off his friend. "All your moodiness is taking a toll on my bladder."

Roy just shook his head and absentmindedly played with the half-empty beer bottle in front of him. He knew Maes meant well, but he didn't feel like picking up any dates at the moment. Especially after Riza had just saved him a couple of days ago from a very messy death by implosion. Once he'd realized what would have happened had she not jumped in, Roy could only appreciate her even more.

Of course, then she'd called him useless…

Maes came back to find his friend even more depressed than before. "You look like you need another drink."

"No, Maes," Roy stopped him from ordering. "More alcohol will not solve my problems."

"But I bet _she _can," Maes grinned widely as the door to the pub flew open, revealing a familiar lieutenant.

"I _told_ you, I'm not looking for a date," Roy repeated, exasperated. His back was facing the doorway and he had no intentions of turning around.

"Are you sure about that?" Maes smirked knowingly at him.

"What's the problem, Lieutenant Colonel? I got here as fast as I could." Riza had by then joined the two friends. She was panting slightly and her hair was down, still damp from the shower.

"Ah!" Maes patted her on the back. "Excellent timing, Riza!"

"You said you were going to take a leak!" Roy said accusingly.

"A man isn't allowed to stop by the payphone on his way to the john?" Maes asked innocently.

Riza looked from Maes to Roy and back to Maes again, then quirked an eyebrow. "…Wasn't there some urgent matter that the colonel needed me to look into right away?"

"Yes," Maes answered, dead serious. "Roy needs a girl."

"For the love of—!" Roy covered his face with a hand.

"Roy…huh?" Riza was very confused.

"See you later!" Maes replied, practically skipping out of the pub, the crowd instinctively parting due to his overbearing aura. "No matter how many babies you have, their combined cuteness factor will never match Elysia's!" he called over his shoulder.

"Babies?" Riza repeated incredulously.

"Cuteness factor?" Roy quoted in disbelief.

A puzzled silence fell between the two. Hurricane Maes had that sort of aftereffect.

Finally, Roy coughed, embarrassed. "Sorry about that, Riza. As you can see, there's nothing wrong. You can go home now."

"No can do, Roy. I did _not_ just run all the way down here to be sent back again this soon," she refused stubbornly.

He couldn't help smirking. "And in a white shirt, too."

She crossed her arms in front of her chest protectively and let out a tired laugh. "That damn Maes didn't even give me time to step out of the shower, much less dry off and get a shirt on that wasn't quite so...see through."

Roy sighed, a genuine smile gracing his face for the first time in days. "Yeah. That damn Maes."

**A/N: Actually, the first time I read through FMA I wasn't that devastated by Hughes' death. I guess I was just eager to get on with the story and didn't stop to think about it too much. But then I convinced my sister to read FMA and when I reread the part about Hughes I almost cried :( Oh well. He should show up again sometime before this fic ends.**

**Hm...this chapter's "theme" was "God," but that was only mentioned in one sentence XD Oh well-I'm satisfied with the outcome anyway, so I hope you are too ^^  
**

**Thanks for reading!**


	23. 023: Someone I Want to Protect

**A/N: Chapter 23 is up! ...I don't have much else to say...I'm kinda sleepy right now XD Hope you enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: Me? Own FMA? Sorry, you must have the wrong person. Try looking for her in Japan-you'll probably be more successful there :)  
**

It was a beautiful summer Saturday afternoon—warm, but not too hot, a fresh gentle breeze rustling the trees overhead, and clear blue skies as far as the eye could see. Even the birds seemed to realize that this was wonderful weather and sang more sweetly because of it. Not surprisingly, most of Central's residents decided to savor the day at the park. A certain Roy Mustang was one of them.

Meandering across the wide grassy field, he inhaled and allowed himself a satisfied smile. For once, Mother Nature seemed to agree that he deserved an enjoyable day out in the sun after suffering an entire week in his stuffy, seemingly un-air-conditioned office.

Roy was forced to stop abruptly in his tracks as a black-and-white blur flew past him, almost causing him to trip. He was able to recognize the blur as Black Hayate once the dog stopped at a tree and began barking profusely at it. And where Hayate was, surely…

"Sorry, s—Roy." Riza joined him, evidently deciding that such a day shouldn't allow for formalities.

"Hello, Riza." Roy's smile got even wider. He motioned to the agitated puppy. "What's got Hayate so excited?"

"Chipmunk." She laughed lightly. "It jumped on my shoulder, and I guess he thought it was attacking me, so he chased it away."

"He couldn't spare me even a backwards glance?" Roy joked, shaking his head in mock sadness.

"He was protecting you, too," Riza suggested. "And he seems to be doing my job better than I can. That chipmunk is probably miles away from here by now."

"Hey, I don't need protection. If any rabid rodents attack me, I've got it covered." Roy snapped his (thankfully) ungloved fingers to prove his point.

"But if the rabid rodents attack in the rain, then you'd be useless," Riza innocently pointed out.

"Aw, come on now." He made a face. "Some jokes get old after awhile."

"Not this one," she informed him with a grin. "But don't worry. You've still got potential, and until you realize it, I'll always watch your back."

"Huh." He snorted. "So if I didn't have any potential, what would you do?"

Hayate decided that the chipmunk had been properly scolded, and trotted back to his owner and her companion. He nuzzled Roy's leg affectionately until Roy stooped down to pet him.

Riza watched the two with a smile. "If you didn't have any potential to become Fuhrer, I'd tell you to become a dog sitter. Hayate certainly like you enough."

"Thanks for your suggestion. Maybe after I retire I'll do it. I can see the headlines now: 'Former Fuhrer Becomes Coveted Dog Sitter.'" Roy scratched Hayate behind the ear. "I bet this guy is happy to be out, huh?"

"Probably. He's been cooped up in my apartment all week." Riza sighed. "I don't have time to walk him on most workdays."

"You could bring him to the office," Roy suggested.

"If I have any chance of getting you all to work, it'll be _without_ Hayate as an added distraction." Riza crouched down next to Roy.

"Hey, just loosen up a bit, okay?" Roy turned to look at her. "It's a rare treat to see you as relaxed like this. You should do it more often."

"_Someone_ has to keep our team going at a reasonable pace," she replied. "And it certainly isn't going to be you. You're the worst of them all, Mr. I'm-Allergic-to-Paperwork."

"It's a common ailment—I can't help it," he defended. "If you just asked your doctor—"

"You're not my doctor, Roy," she chuckled.

"I'm still your commanding officer, though," he insisted. "So…I order you to at least wear your hair down to work one day. It looks nice."

"We're not on duty," Riza answered smoothly, "so I don't have to take orders. Just be glad that it's down now."

"I guess," Roy agreed with a big smirk. "Now all you need is a mini-skirt."

Riza stared at him dubiously for a few moments. Then she turned to her dog. "Hayate? Sic him!"

The puppy barked and promptly jumped on his target. "Woah!" Roy flailed about and grabbed Riza's arm, pulling her down with him. The two of them ended up lying on the grass, laughing, with Hayate licking both their faces enthusiastically.

"Look, mommy!" A little boy tugged at his mother's dress. "Doggy!"

"Hm." His mother smiled. "Yes, sweetheart."

The boy sucked on his finger for a second, then added, "Those people are laughing a lot."

"Yes they are." She patted his head. "They're a very happy couple, aren't they?"

The boy looked up at his mom and smiled. "Mm-hm!"

**A/N: So...kinda fluffy? With some light humor thrown in? Yeah. Hope you liked it :) Thanks for reading, and feel free to leave a review if you so wish ^^**


	24. 024:  Not There

**A/N: Unfortunately, summer is almost over. I have to go to school again in two weeks...ah well. Enjoy the rest of it while it lasts, so here's another chapter! Hope you like it!**

**Disclaimer: No. Just no. Do not ask if I own FMA. Because I do not.  
**

When Hawkeye walked into the office, she was greeted with an interesting sight. The office itself was in disarray, with papers strewn everywhere (minus the humongous pile on Havoc's desk), the file cabinets shoved in one corner, and the desks in various new locations. As for the room's occupants, Havoc and Breda were currently advancing on Edward, who was keeping them at bay with a slightly deformed lamp. Meanwhile, Al, Fuery, and Falman were busy looking behind desks and poking at piles of paper. It was so chaotic that none of them had noticed Hawkeye. With a swift flick that lifted the safety of her gun, she soon remedied that.

_Click._

The small, yet distinctive metallic sound that everyone knew so well was enough to stop them in their tracks. All eyes nervously turned to Hawkeye, who was standing in the doorway, pistol at the ready, with a vein noticeably throbbing on her forehead. "Anyone care to tell me what's going on?" She asked quietly, calmly, the menace barely hidden.

Havoc cleared his throat. "Uh…a game of hide-and-go-seek?" he answered sheepishly.

"…Hide-and-go-seek?" She repeated in disbelief.

"Yeah, you know," Breda piped up, "where everyone hides until they're found and then they have to get tagged—"

"I know what it is!" Hawkeye snapped, her eyes practically sparking with anger. Ed wouldn't be surprised if flames started shooting out of her mouth. "What I want to know is—" She suddenly stopped, having just noticed something important. "Wait a minute. Where's the colonel?"

"We were looking for him," Al offered hesitantly. "He's the last one."

Not wanting to blow up at Alphonse, Hawkeye took a deep breath. After rubbing her temples for a moment, she spoke again. "You've looked everywhere?"

"Yeah, it's like he disappeared or something." Ed formed a fist. "If that bastard colonel left the room…"

"But that's cheating!" Fuery pointed out. "The colonel wouldn't do that."

"Well…" Falman stroked his chin thoughtfully. "Statistically speaking, the chances that Colonel Mustang left the room are actually pretty high."

"Statistically? As in, you've played this on more than one occasion?" Hawkeye visibly twitched. She'd always wondered what _really_ happened at the office when she was on leave.

"Let's deal with that later," Ed interjected quickly, "preferably when Al and I are out of town. Uh, maybe you can help us look for Mustang, Lieutenant."

She sighed and did a quick scan of the room. "…You've looked behind and under his desk?"

"Not there," Havoc confirmed.

Nonetheless, Hawkeye strode over to Mustang's desk and examined it from the side one would usually sit at. She peeked at the sheltered hiding place the desk usually provided and felt the underside of the tabletop. She nodded decisively. "Here he is."

* * *

_Riza looked around the library in frustration. She'd checked every hiding place possible, and she still couldn't find him. He'd promised to stay in the room this time, so he was obviously somewhere. She reviewed each spot, examining them all closely one more time. Behind the bookshelf? No. Under the chair? No. In the closet? No. Under the desk? No. Beside the—wait a minute. _

_She went back to the desk. Her sharp eyes immediately noticed traces of alchemy on the wood. Quickly, she pieced together what happened. She sighed and said loudly, "Do you know what Father would do if he caught you messing up his new desk?"_

_There was a gasp and a bump from underneath. She heard some hasty scratching. A few seconds later, Roy tumbled out from under the desk and landed at her feet. _

"_Using alchemy is cheating, you know," Riza complained, kicking him lightly._

"_The rules never said you couldn't use alchemy," he smirked in reply.

* * *

_

Hawkeye noticed the others' disbelieving looks. "From the side I'm standing on, the back of the desk looks more forward than it actually is," she explained. "He used alchemy to create a false back." Raising her voice, she continued, "Colonel, if you don't come out now, I'm going to shoot your desk full of holes. Starting with where your head is." She tapped the upper right corner of the desktop. To everyone's surprise, a loud "thunk" and some swearing immediately emanated from the desk.

Ed scrambled to Hawkeye's side just as the false back disappeared, revealing Mustang crammed against the real back of the desk. She nudged him with her foot. "Tagged you, sir. The game's over."

"Alchemy's cheating, you jerk!" Ed accused.

"The rules never said you _couldn't_ use alchemy," Mustang replied matter-of-factly, getting up and dusting himself off.

"Now that we're done, I think it would be a good idea if everyone helped to rearrange the office before getting back to work," Hawkeye suggested, tapping her pistol meaningfully. The rest of the officers rushed to comply.

"How'd you know where the colonel was, Lieutenant?" Al asked tentatively as he pushed a file cabinet back to its rightful place.

She gave him a brief smile. "He likes to use the same tricks over and over again. You get used to it after awhile, Alphonse."

* * *

Later, the Elric brothers left the office. Once they'd gotten out of the building, Al said thoughtfully, "It sounds like the lieutenant played hide-and-go-seek with the colonel before."

Ed laughed. "Really, Al? Can you imagine Lieutenant Hawkeye playing hide-and-go-seek? With Mustang?"

Al chuckled too. "I guess it _is_ pretty unlikely."

**If you're still confused, I'm imagining Roy's desk looking kind of like this picture, but without the top piece: **http:/ image. made-in-china. com/ 2f0j00DCMTGnlKHHcQ /Receipt-Desk -MXZY-086-.j pg** (without the spaces). **

**Also, I thought I was being really creative when I wrote this chapter a couple of months ago; I mean, no one's ever had the FMA characters playing hide-and-seek, right? Wrong. There's a hide-and-seek chapter in Strix 4's The Dailies, so she beat me to it XD Though I wrote about hide-and-GO-seek, so it's till a bit different :P ****Her version was entertaining, though; I recommend it, if not the entire fic :)****. **

**Anyway, hope you found this chapter enjoyable and thanks for reading!  
**


	25. 025: So I'm Crying

**Wow. I'm a quarter of the way finished :D Hooray! At the rate I'm going (a chapter a week), this fic will be finished...in a little less than two years XD Hope you guys will stick with me till then :) Anyway, without further ado, enjoy the chapter (set when Roy and Riza are kids)!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own FMA. If I did, then I would've put more Royai in it XD  
**

Whenever Roy got time off from his lessons, he and Riza savored every single minute. They might go on a picnic, walk in the woods, climb trees, chase squirrels, or look for frogs; the Hawkeye property provided many opportunities to have fun, if given the chance.

Currently, the two children were enjoying a game of one-on-one soccer. Roy was stronger and had more stamina, but Riza was quicker and more accurate with her kicks, so it was pretty evenly matched.

The two laughed quietly or grunted softly as they wrestled the ball from each other. They avoided yelling or making any other loud noise, lest Master Hawkeye would get disturbed and scold them.

Riza aimed right for the ball even as Roy held it between his feet. He held it more firmly than she had anticipated, because her foot bounced off the ball and continued upwards, eventually hitting a very sensitive area between Roy's legs.

"OWWWwwwwwww!" He managed to bring his anguished howl down to a pained moan, ever mindful of Master Hawkeye's need for quiet. Still, it didn't stop the agonizing pain. Roy collapsed on the ground, doubled over, his eyes watering. "It hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts!"

"What's wrong with you?" Riza was quite taken aback at his sudden outburst. "I've kicked you that hard before and you'd just try and kick me back." She noticed a couple of tears streak down his cheeks. "What are you crying for?"

"It hurts like _heck_, Riza!" He groaned through gritted teeth. "This is a very…sensitive…area…for me. So I'm crying."

She laughed and sat down beside him. "Then get stronger, you big baby!"

"It's…not like that," Roy said between deep breaths. "All guys are easily hurt…there."

"Even Father?" Riza seemed dubious that her dad would ever be rolling on the ground and wailing like Roy had been.

Roy nodded silently, trying to ignore how much he was hurting.

Riza didn't say anything more; she could sense that he needed some time to recover.

After a while, the pain had lessened to a dull throbbing. Feeling like he could talk normally again, Roy turned to Riza. "So…Master hasn't given you The Talk before?"

"The talk?" She was confused.

"Not the talk. The Talk." He emphasized each word of the phrase with a hand motion.

She shook her head, wondering if perhaps the pain from before had caused him to lose his mind.

Roy sighed. He supposed it was natural that she didn't know the differences between boys and girls yet. They wouldn't learn it in school, and Master didn't seem like the type of person who would sit his daughter down to talk about those sorts of things. But with his foster mom running a brothel, it was logical for Roy to know the contents of The Talk way before he was supposed to.

"Well," he finally said. "When you hear The Talk, you'll know. But no hurry—it's not as interesting as it sounds, trust me."

"Will I know when I turn twelve like you?" Riza asked. She was a bit curious as to why all males would have the same weak spot.

"Maybe, maybe not." Roy made a face. "_I_ definitely won't tell you. I guess you'll have to wait till Master feels like having The Talk with you."

Riza pouted. "Father will never tell me. He hardly talks to me at all." Her expression brightened. "How about, if I win this game, you give me The Talk when I turn twelve?" She got up, soccer ball in hand.

"I don't know." Roy was doubtful. He had no interest whatsoever in discussing those topics with Riza.

"What? You afraid you're gonna lose?" She grinned and tossed the ball up and down.

"No I'm not!" Roy stood up decisively, the pain long forgotten in the heat of upcoming competition. "_When_ I win, no complaining—got it?"

"Whatever." Riza dropped the ball down on the ground between them. "Let's play!"

**A/N: Is it weird for me to be writing about this? I mean, when I saw the theme "So I'm crying," (said from Roy's point of view, between Roy and Riza) all I could think of was Roy being depressed or Roy being kicked in his sensitive spot...also, I don't know if they would call soccer "soccer" (like us Americans do) or "football" (like everybody else does XD), so I just went with "soccer" because that's what I'm used to.**

**Anyway, thanks for reading!  
**


	26. 026: Cureless

**Hello, everyone! It's the first Friday of the school year (and let me just say thank goodness for that), so to celebrate, here's a brand new chapter! :D Hope you enjoy! This is post-manga, though I don't think it's that spoiler-ish for those who haven't read up to the latest chapters yet.  
**

**Disclaimer: I own a driver's permit! But not FMA. I don't think I need to tell you which one I'd rather have...  
**

General Mustang sighed. He had been bogged down with work almost as soon as he was released from the hospital. It wasn't that he didn't want to help with the Ishbalan situation—he just wished that there wasn't so much paperwork involved. He'd never liked paperwork, and he reckoned he never would.

The strident ring of the phone interrupted his disgruntled musings. He picked it up immediately and answered crisply, "General Mustang speaking."

"Whoa, General, huh? Well, no matter. You'll always be Colonel Bastard to me," an all-too-familiar voice chuckled at the other end of the line.

"Full—Edward." Mustang had a hard time remembering that Ed was no longer a State Alchemist. Unfortunately, he hadn't abandoned his immature attitude along with his state title. "I trust that there's an important reason you called? Perhaps concerning your research in the west?"

"Oh, I don't need your help with that," Ed replied nonchalantly. "I just wanted to check up on you. Don't need you dying on me suddenly, since you're getting old and gray."

Mustang massaged his temple in an effort to thwart an oncoming migraine. "I'm not _that_ old yet, thank you very much. If you're done—"

"Hold your horses, Mustang," Ed laughed, delighted with his pun. "I called to tell you that I proposed to Winry. And she accepted. It's all you now, Colonel Bastard." With that, he hung up.

Mustang stared dumbly at the phone in his hand, the dial tone echoing throughout his vast office. It took a few moments for Edward's words to sink in.

He finally placed the phone back into its cradle and settled into his chair thoughtfully. Several minutes later, he yelled, "Hawkeye!"

The door opened a second later and she walked in. Coming to a stop, she snapped a salute and addressed him. "Yes, sir?"

"Riza," he started, "I'm sick."

"Are you, sir?" She asked calmly, subtly insisting that they were at work and would act as such.

"Really, Riza, I am," he replied, stubbornly refusing to call her anything but her first name.

She crossed her arms and relaxed her stance, resigned. "What makes you think that, sir? Do you have a fever?"

He frowned at her use of "sir," but continued. "It's not that type of illness, Riza."

"Then what type of illness is it?" There was just the tiniest hint of exasperation in her voice, but he heard it.

He leaned forward, his face as serious as she'd ever seen it. "Lovesickness," he whispered, though the words still sounded as loud as if he'd declared them through a megaphone.

Riza had developed an unhealthy twitch in her left eye. "Not now, sir."

"But it's a very deadly illness," he argued solemnly, though she could clearly see the smirk he was hiding. "It has to be taken care of right away."

She saw no choice but to play his game. "Then how does one take care of this…lovesickness, sir?"

"Before, it was thought that there was no remedy," he explained. "But recently, it was discovered that if the right person told the patient that she loved him, then he would be cured."

"Is that so?" She glanced at the clock. "Then I promise that you'll be cured…in five hours."

"I don't think you understand, Riza," he sighed. "I can't hold on till the end of the work day. I have to be cured now, before it's too late."

"If you don't finish your work, sir," she asserted, tapping the holster at her hip, "Lovesickness is the last thing you'll have to worry about."

"Threatening a higher officer can get you court marshaled, you know." He made a face.

She laughed. "Then you'll never be cured, yes?"

"Aw, it's not nice to take advantage of someone's illness, Hawkeye." He decided he would have to wait for his own proposal. Somewhere outside of the office would probably be more ideal, anyway.

"You know me, Roy," she replied, hand on the doorknob. "You think I'd do anything different?"

The door closed behind her. He smiled. "Love you too, Riza."

**A/N: Just a short silly thing, I guess. Hope it was still something to smile about :) I have four more chapters pre-written, so I'm good for at least another month, but after that I might be more slow with the updates, since I have school and all. Plus, I'm planning to do NaNoWriMo in November, and this story is not (unfortunately) part of my word count. Then again, I might be able to keep up for a while yet, but I'm giving all you lovely readers a little advanced notice just in case. Anyway, thanks for reading!**


	27. 027: Dependency

**Happy Friday, everyone! :D And along with Friday comes another update from yours truly ^^ Hope you enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: FMA would've been a great sweet sixteen birthday present. But I got a camcorder instead. Not that I'm complaining, but yeah. Don't own.  
**

Havoc rested his head on the desk with a sigh. The work seemed endless, and the day was going by so slowly…

"Havoc?" Hawkeye approached him with yet another stack of dreaded papers. He reluctantly straightened into a sitting position once more, a sheet stuck on his cheek serving as a lopsided frame for his dejected face.

"Is something wrong?" Hawkeye gave him a concerned look as she set a few packets in front of him.

"What _isn't_ wrong?" Havoc groaned in reply, leaning back in his chair. "There's so much paperwork, the clock isn't going any faster, and I have a massive headache."

"You could've stayed home like the others," Hawkeye reminded him. The office was empty with the exception of Mustang, who was quietly eating his lunch at his own desk while keeping one ear tuned to their conversation. "Today was a day off for officers below first lieutenant."

"I know. I forgot." Havoc massaged his temples vigorously, but his migraine wasn't leaving any time soon.

Hawkeye suddenly noticed something odd about him. Empty pocket. Empty mouth. Which could mean one thing, and one thing only. "Havoc…are you out of cigarettes?"

"Yes…and it's killing me," he grumbled, covering his face with his hands. "I haven't been focused all day. I don't think I can get up even if I wanted to."

"Just go buy some more," Mustang suggested, finally entering the conversation. "I can get a secretary to pick them up for you."

"I'm on a budget, and I've already used up my cigarette money for this month," Havoc sighed. "I thought I'd be fine, but I'm just too dependent on them." He fiddled with his pen for a moment and then stopped when an idea struck him. A smirk slowly spread across his face. "How about you guys? I bet both of you have something that you can't get enough of."

Hawkeye and Mustang were both surprised by the sudden question. They exchanged glances (much to the now-much-less-dead Havoc's glee) and seemed to reach the same conclusion.

"You say it," Mustang smiled.

"No, sir, I insist that you say it," Hawkeye refused graciously.

"As your superior, I order you to say it," he smirked as he played the "my-rank-is-higher-so-you-must-obey" card.

"I'll have to refuse that one, sir," Hawkeye replied smoothly. "And if you have me court marshaled for doing so, I wish you good luck with explaining why."

"Fine," Mustang leaned back in his chair, "we'll say it together. On three."

"Very well," Hawkeye agreed with a sigh.

Havoc had been watching this exchange with a look of intense interest. Could it be? The colonel and his lieutenant were finally going to confess their love for one another? Right in front of him? He frowned slightly after a few seconds of silence had passed. "Well? Come on, what can't you two get enough of? Start counting already!"

Mustang laughed. "That's rude, Havoc, but I suppose I'll excuse you since you're going through a sort of withdrawal, so to speak. Anyway, what the lieutenant and I depend on is…one…"

"Two…" Hawkeye continued before glancing at Havoc.

It took the latter a few seconds to realize that he was supposed to say the final number. "Three!" Havoc shouted, pumping his fist into the air and grinning in anticipation. Breda, Falman, and Fuery were _so_ going to regret taking this day off…

"Black Hayate!" Hawkeye and Mustang answered in unison.

The room was silent.

"…Wha...what?" Havoc's jaw dropped. He had _not_ been expecting that. His headache slowly started to return and he plopped his head onto the desk once more.

Mustang got up and walked over to his subordinate's desk, patting Havoc's shoulder sympathetically. "It's alright, Havoc. I know you're a bit surprised at the answer, but it's definitely the truth, isn't it, Lieutenant?" He turned slightly and smirked in Hawkeye's direction.

Her face remained impassive, but her eyes twinkled with laughter. "Of course, Colonel. The absolute truth."

**A/N: Ah, Havoc's (and our) expectations were dashed again, yeah? XD I guess this didn't go as smoothly as I hoped, but I'm too swamped to do anything but minor edits at the moment. I have a request of you readers: give me a phrase or a couple of words or a subject even-whatever comes to your mind first. I might be able to use one of those as inspiration for an original short story I'm writing (It's due in less than a month D:). **

**Many thanks to those who contribute, but also to those who just took the time to read this ^^**


	28. 028: Pain and Wounds

**A/N: Woot! 28% done! XD Without further ado (and because I have nothing else to say...), enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: Nope. Don't own. Stop asking me! Jeez.  
**

Mustang sighed and blinked several times in order to keep from falling asleep. When that didn't work, he decided that shifting the papers on his desk might help him stay awake. He reached out to the nearest stack and slid his fingers underneath quickly. However, the rapid motion of his hand caused the edge of a folder sticking out from the center of the pile to slash across his right palm.

For a moment, he didn't notice that anything was amiss. Then a mild look of shock crossed his face in reaction to the red liquid seeping out from the newly created gash. Finally, the pain registered in his brain.

"SHIT!" He swore through gritted teeth as he jerked his hand back and squeezed his right wrist tightly to combat the pain.

Hawkeye glanced up just in time to see a few crimson drops fall from Mustang's hand and splatter across the crisp white paper in front of him. She immediately pulled out one of her desk drawers and grabbed a roll of white gauze that she always kept handy. Without a word, she tore off a long strip, walked over to him and took his hand gently.

He looked up, having been too preoccupied with the cut to notice what his lieutenant was doing. She was already wrapping the bandages around his hand in a business-like manner. When she saw him staring she simply raised an eyebrow and observed, "Getting paper cuts now, sir? Please be more careful."

"It's not just a paper cut. It's like the paper cut of paper cuts. It's a folder cut!" He glared at the manila file now tinged with red. "I was actually trying to be productive, but no. It's hard to do paperwork when it's out to get you."

"I highly doubt that your work bears ill will towards you, sir. Just try not to be as careless in the future and everything will be fine." Hawkeye had finished wrapping his hand. She held down the free end with her finger and instructed, "Hold this for a moment, please, Colonel."

Mustang obediently pressed his own finger next to hers, allowing her to leave his side and rummage through her desk for some tape. He smiled ruefully. "Sorry, Lieutenant. I guess I was being a bit childish. Good thing the others aren't here today."

"If you'd finished your work like I asked, then you could be taking the day off with the rest of them and wouldn't have to worry about paper cuts, sir," Hawkeye commented as she came back with a piece of tape to finish bandaging his wound.

Mustang chose to ignore her observation and changed to subject. "You know," he said, regaining a bit of his usual smirk, "with this wound and all, I think I should be able to take the rest of the day off—ow!"

"Sorry, sir," Hawkeye hid a smirk of her own as she loosened the wrappings to their proper pressure once more and fastened the bandage carefully. "But as for your suggestion, I think a paper cut is a silly little thing that doesn't deserve half the attention you're giving it, yes?"

"Right, right," Mustang grumbled, picking up his pen gingerly with his bandaged hand. "Point taken, Lieutenant."

* * *

"Hey," Ed greeted as he burst into the office later that day with Al close behind him. "Here's your report that I worked oh-so-hard on." He unceremoniously dropped the papers in front of Mustang and turned to leave, but noticed the colonel's bandaged hand. "What'd you do, Colonel Bastard? Give yourself a paper cut?"

Mustang opened his mouth to deliver a sharp retort, but found that he couldn't. After all, how could he defend himself from the truth?

Just before the pause would have stretched into an awkward silence, Hawkeye spoke up. "Oh, the colonel just got into a bit of a struggle with an unexpected opponent. But he's in one piece, so it's nothing to worry about, Edward."

Fullmetal started to ask another question, but Al put a hand on his shoulder. "Brother, we've got to leave before the train does."

Ed nodded. "Okay, Al. See you later, Colonel, Lieutenant." With a wave, the Elrics were gone again.

Mustang turned to Hawkeye and asked incredulously, "A struggle with an unexpected opponent?"

"What would you have had me say, sir?" She shot back. "'Correct, Edward. The colonel _did _in fact get a paper cut. And he cried like a baby afterwards.'"

Mustang huffed indignantly. "Fine, I suppose your reply was appropriate. But I did _not_ cry like a baby."

"Hm, I guess you're right, sir," Hawkeye crossed her arms and gave him a sly grin. "Babies don't know the word 'shit.'"

Mustang stared at her a moment before shaking his head with a resigned smile. "Alright, you win, Lieutenant. Now stop bothering me—I'm trying to work."

She snorted softly. "Glad to hear it." She sat down and found some stray papers that needed straightening.

A few peaceful minutes later, Mustang leaned back and tapped his pen against his chin thoughtfully. "Riza, how am I going to keep from swearing in front of our baby?"

She slowly looked up from her work and turned to him, her expression a mix of disbelief, amusement, and annoyance. "We'll cross that bridge when we come to it, sir. Now I better see that pen moving or I'll be forced to bandage your mouth too."

The office was remarkably quiet for the rest of the work day.

**A/N: A paper cut counts as a wound right? Right. End of discussion :P And I think the pain part of the theme is self-explanatory. Those nasty things are pretty small, but they hurt a lot D: Anyway, thanks for reading, and hope you'll come back next week ^^**


	29. 029: Existence

**A/N: I live in a place with many lakes, so...I definitely identify with Hawkeye in this chapter. Just saying. Anyway, enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: Huh? What'd you say? I couldn't hear you over this big sign I'm holding that says "I DON'T OWN FMA." As to why the sign would effect my ability to hear, you can figure that out yourself :P  
**

With half an hour of lunch break left in the day, three people occupied Mustang's office. There was Mustang himself, as well as Havoc and Falman. Breda wasn't there, as he was never one to waste any second of lunchtime. Fuery was down the hall, fixing some sort of broken equipment. Hawkeye was noticeably absent, and had been all morning. The officers took advantage of this and were currently engaged in a game of darts, the target being a sheet of paper tacked onto the door.

"Last round," Havoc announced as he finished tallying the last throw. He had run out of betting money a long time ago and had resorted to keeping score to continue to avoid doing actual work. "You need a bull's-eye to win this one, Colonel, or Falman's gonna win…again." Havoc sighed out of the side of his mouth. Falman had turned out to be quite the dart player. Maybe constantly squinting enhanced his vision.

"Bull's-eye, huh? Should be easy enough," Mustang murmured casually, ignoring the fact that he hadn't hit the center of the paper the entire game. He raised his last dart up to eye level and sighted carefully. He flexed his wrist back and forth, ready to fire—

The door flew open, revealing a slightly out-of-breath Hawkeye. Mustang quickly hid his hand under his desk and pretended to be focused only on the paper in front of him. Havoc and Falman quickly followed suit. Hawkeye only spared the dart board on the back of the door a withering glance before giving Mustang a tired salute. "Sorry I'm late, sir," she said, and couldn't resist commenting, "though I see you've been keeping yourself busy."

"Ahem," Mustang cleared his throat in response and smoothly brought his hidden hand out into the open again (the dart was now safely stuck to the underside of his desk, out of sight) to pick up his pen. "And exactly why are you late, Lieutenant?"

"The reason would be on that memo you seemed to be so furiously reading, sir," Hawkeye lowered her gaze pointedly to stare at the sheet in front of him.

"Oh, this? This is something else," Mustang replied hurriedly, covering the title of the sheet, which proudly boasted "MEMOS" for all to see. "I didn't have time to read the memo, so just tell me now, Hawkeye."

"I had to take Hayate to the vet," she replied, sitting down at her desk with a sigh. "The poor puppy was itching all over—I had no other choice."

"Itching?" Havoc repeated. "Does he have fleas or something?"

"Worse things exist," Hawkeye answered darkly, rubbing her wrist. When her sleeve lifted the slightest bit, Mustang was able to make out a tiny red bump.

He blinked. "Mosquitoes?"

"Correct, Colonel." Hawkeye noticed what she was doing and stopped scratching. She added irritably, "I went out this morning with Hayate for a quick jog in the park, but apparently those annoying parasites had the same idea."

"Yeah, mosquitoes can be such a nuisance," Havoc agreed. "Sometimes I question the very existence of those things. I mean, seriously, do they serve any other purpose but to make our lives miserable?"

"Well," Falman piped up, "I haven't researched this subject extensively, but I do believe that many animals, like bats and perhaps frogs, eat mosquitoes as a regular part of their diet."

"It was a rhetorical question, Falman," Havoc said, exasperated.

"Hm, maybe next time I should come with you," Mustang offered with a smirk. "One snap and all those bugs will be history."

"I _might_ just take you up on that, sir." Hawkeye tapped her pen on her desk absentmindedly.

"Alright then, let's call it a date," Mustang grinned winningly.

"On the other hand," she continued, "I could just bring some bug spray next time."

"Oh! Colonel Mustang just got _rejected_!" Havoc crowed, slapping his desk for emphasis. "And in favor of some mosquito repellent, no less."

"Now, my nerves are frayed enough already," Hawkeye warned, "so I'm going to say that lunch is over now and you should all get back to work." She turned to the pouting colonel. "You too, sir."

"I don't know if I can, Hawkeye," Mustang pretended to mope. "Isn't it excusable if I'm depressed?"

"I never said I _wouldn't_ go on a date with you, sir," Hawkeye pointed out quietly, rearranging the papers haphazardly strewn across his desk into neat piles. "I just think that exterminating mosquitoes doesn't create the best atmosphere. Plus, you'd probably burn the whole park down."

"Hm." Mustang's face immediately brightened. "How about seven o'clock tonight at my place, then? Would that be more preferable?"

Hawkeye smiled slightly. "We'll see _after_ you finish your paperwork, sir."

Havoc hadn't heard the entire exchange, but the couple's actions and facial expressions were enough to tell him what had just happened. He threw his hands up in the air. "For heaven's sake, can the colonel just _not_ get a girl for once?"

"I thought that you'd bet on them getting together," Falman pointed out.

Havoc sighed. "Details, details."

**A/N: Havoc's got quite the internal conflict going on, yeah? XD Hope you enjoyed this chapter, and thanks very much for reading!**


	30. 030: Conversation

**A/N: Sorry about the late post D: My computer recently got viruses and the old laptop was being stupid, so I hope all my lovely readers will forgive me :( **

**Anyway, this chapter's theme is "conversation," so I wrote a dialogue-only oneshot. Each line break signifies a new dialogue. Enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: If I owned FMA, I would be writing/drawing another awesome gaiden right now...about Royai, obviously XD**

"Hey, Ed."

" 'Lo, Havoc."

"Ahem…_hey, Ed._"

"I already said—oh, alright, I'm coming over."

"Closer."

"You sound like a creep, Havoc. My nose is almost touching yours already—I'm not going in any farther."

"Sorry, Ed. It's just that what I'm about to say to you is to only stay between the two of us."

"You aren't making me feel any less awkward right now."

"…You're a pretty sharp kid, right?"

"Sure…"

"Okay then…have you noticed anything…_unusual_ about the lieutenant and the colonel lately?"

"Define 'unusual.' Hawkeye isn't your average kick-ass sniper and Colonel Bastard is _far_ from normal."

"Here's the deal. I overheard them talking earlier today. They were the only two in the room, and I was about to go in, but then I heard 'walk in the park' and 'don't forget' and—get this—'date.'"

"…So?"

" 'So?' _'So?'_ That's all you have to say?"

"I don't appreciate your spit in my eye, thank you very much."

"Hey, hey, don't wipe your face. You're drawing attention to us."

"Speak for yourself."

"Anyway, the point is, what does that conversation sound like to you?"

"Well, it _sounds_ like they're going on a date—"

"Aha! So you agree! Alright, Ed, you're coming with me. Now Breda will have to admit defeat! I totally won this bet."

"Wait! I wasn't done yet! Leggo of my arm, you cigarette-puffing freak!"

* * *

"_This is your new mission, Colonel."_

"_Ah, thanks, Lieutenant."_

"…"

"_Hm, seems easy enough. It'll be a walk in the park."_

"_Whatever you say, Colonel. Just don't forget when you have to go."_

"_Oh…um…when was it, again?"_

"…_Sometimes I wonder about you, sir…The date is on the top of the page— September 7__th__. "_

"_Ah, thank you, Lieutenant."

* * *

_

"I-is s-something wrong, E-ed? Y-you seem a b-bit shaken."

"Oh, I just went on an unwanted ride aboard the Havoc Express. I'm fine, Fuery. Though you don't look too good yourself."

"W-well, i-it's just…th-this package the c-colonel gave m-me."

"Oh, it looks like a box of chocolates."

"Y-yeah…that's what I-I think t-too."

"What's the problem, then? If you don't want it I'll have it. Nothing wrong with chocolate."

"W-well, I-I'm sup-p-posed to give this to H-Hawkeye."

"Wait. Mustang's giving the lieutenant _chocolates_? Through _you_? What'd he say, exactly?"

"I-I got nervous once h-he told me t-to give th-them to h-her, but I know h-he said 'tell her I love her.'"

"Hmph. That bastard can learn to deliver his sappy romantic messages himself. Gimme the box, Fuery. Go spend some time with radios or something—I'll just drop this on Hawkeye's desk when she's out."

"Oh-oh thanks, Ed-Edward. I owe you one."

* * *

"_Oh, Fuery, will you give this to Hawkeye?"_

"_H-hawkeye?"_

"_Yes. It's the package of bullets she ordered last week."_

"…_ch-chocolate…?"_

"_No, Fuery. Bullets. You think I would tell her I love her with a box of cartridges? You need to get out more."_

"_Y-yes, s-sir."

* * *

_

"Alright, Colonel Bastard, enough is enough."

"…Hello to you too, Fullmetal."

"Don't just sit there and pretend you have nothing to do with all this. Must you always piss me off?"

"Pointing is rude, Fullmetal. And I have absolutely no idea what you—"

"Havoc and Breda had this huge food fight over some secret dialogue between you and the lieutenant this morning, and poor Fuery nearly had a heart attack because you couldn't confess to Hawkeye by your damn self! He's curled up in a fetal position now, sucking his thumb and turning dials in the equipment room!"

"I—what?"

"Yeah, that's right! And as for Falman, all the excitement was too much for him so he just left early to huddle up in a dark corner of his bedroom and read the tenth edition of Webster's Dictionary!"

"I don't—"

"Of _course_ you don't give a crap! It's all about you all the time! I can't see how Hawkeye puts up with you! That fact alone makes her your dream woman, so _fucking ask her out already!_"

"Fullmetal...! Damn. I need to get him a dog flap or something so he doesn't keep breaking the door down."

* * *

"What was that all about, Colonel?"

"Oh, nothing."

"…I doubt it was 'nothing,' sir. You obviously did _something_ to make Edward smash the door on his way out…again."

"Well, since you want to know so badly…he told me to ask you to go out with me."

"I…what, sir?"

"Yeah, that's how I was like too."

"Hm. Interesting. Maybe that's why the whole office has been acting weirdly all morning."

"Indeed. You'd think they'd have found out before now."

"Well, it wasn't like we were advertising it, sir."

"True. Would you like it to stay that way?"

"I think if they heard it from our own mouths they'd all just about faint."

"I agree. Maybe we'll just drop subtle hints now and then? Let them ease into it?"

"I suppose there's no other way."

"Alright then. That's what we'll do."

"Sir, do you…"

"No, I don't need anything, Lieutenant. Dismissed."

"Very well, sir. Oh, thank you for the chocolates. Where'd you get bullet shaped ones?"

"Heh. I have my ways. You're very welcome, Lieutenant."

**A/N: If you have any problems figuring out who was who...I guess I could clarify for you. Though I'd like to think that I made it pretty clear ^^` **

**Now, on to business. I have an idea for the next chapter, but I haven't typed it up yet. Honestly, I haven't written anything for this fic since August, but I just had so many chapters written in advance that it was okay. Now, I've run out, so I actually need to get typing again. However, with the new complications of my computer (damn viruses -.-) as well as my regular life (PSAT this Wednesday, anyone?), plus NaNoWriMo in November, I don't know if I'll have much time to update D: So Until November ends I'll attempt to post new chapters every OTHER Friday, but if I can't even do that please don't get mad at me...**

**Thanks so much for reading!**


	31. 031: Home Cooking

**A/N: Sorry for the late post! God, I give myself two weeks to update and I'm still a day late . Anyway, hope you enjoy! It's just a short little oneshot, but hopefully still satisfactory :)  
**

**Disclaimer: Don't own. Never will. Unless I win Who Wants to Be a Millionaire. Which is highly unlikely. Unfortunately.  
**

He opened his mouth, and then closed it again. Even he found it hard to grasp the words to describe this situation. Finally, he said, "Well…this was unexpected."

She turned her head slightly and gave him a withering look that made all her disapproving glances in the office seem like delighted grins. So he tried again. "But on the big idea side of things, this isn't so bad, right?"

She added a raised eyebrow to her disbelieving stare.

He was floundering now, grabbing at anything that might possibly save him from drowning in despair. "At least we got out in time."

She finally dignified him with an answer, albeit a sarcastic one. "No thanks to you, Mr. I'm-sure-I-can-just-slap-at-it-and-everything-will-be-fine."

"Hey now," he defended, "that was just reflex. You should be happy your boyfriend is so responsive."

She snorted. "I would be happy if my boyfriend had the sense not to wear his _flame producing _gloves around the house."

"It's a new prototype. I needed to make sure it worked," he insisted. "I mean, you wouldn't want me to go into battle and be…"

She tilted her head innocently. "And be what?"

He glared at her. "You know what."

Her lips quirked just the tiniest bit. "I don't know what. Please enlighten me."

His eye twitched. "Dammit, Riza, I'm _not_ going to say…the u-word."

"Hm." She didn't say anything for a moment, and he was worried she might continue pursuing that dreaded topic. But after letting him sweat for a moment, she evidently decided that he had been tortured enough and gestured towards his house, changing the topic. "So…what are we going to do?"

"I…well, I already called the fire department. They'll be here any moment." If he strained his ears hard enough, he could hear the firebells ringing.

"Then how about after this, we go to _my_ place to have dinner?" She slipped her hand into his.

A relieved smile to spread across his face. "That would be lovely."

The two stood side by side on the sidewalk, facing his burning home. A comfortable silence lapsed between them before she finally added, "You know you're still cooking, right? Without your gloves."

"No need to worry about that." He sighed. "I think I took them off and left them in the house after trying to…slap out the fire." He started as a small _boom_ answered him, accompanied by a small mushroom cloud of flames bursting out of the window.

"I think it's safe to say that that pair wasn't very good," she offered.

He laughed. "Right as always, Riza."

She leaned her head against his shoulder. "And that's why you should listen to me more often."

He rested his head on top of hers. "What are you talking about? I always listen to you."

"If I had 1 cenz for every time you disproved that statement…"

"You'd have zero cenz," he looked down at her, grinning winningly.

"Hm. I thought alchemists were supposed to be good at math," she chuckled.

"Yeah…but we're better at science."

"But obviously lack severely in the common sense department."

"You're never going to let me live this down, are you?"

She laughed. "Probably not."

"Good. That means we'll be together forever, right?" He hugged her closer.

She wrapped her arms around his waist in reply. He smiled. Never had a silence said so much.

**A/N: "Home cooking." Roy's house is cooking, because it's burning. Get it? Get it? :D That would be the more subtle meaning of this theme XD**

**I'll try to update two Fridays from now. Until then, thanks for reading!  
**


	32. 032: Shirt

**A/N: Sorry for not updating yesterday like I said I would, but I decided to update on Saturday for a reason. So, without further ado, enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own FMA. Or clogs. Both of which are very unfortunate.**

Early one crispy fall morning, King Bradley decided to take a leisurely walk through Central HQ. After all, as Fuhrer, it was his responsibility to at least seem to care about what was actually going on in headquarters.

The building was surprisingly busy for just after sunrise, but everything seemed to be in order. Many workers stopped to salute him, but he just motioned for them to carry on, and they hurriedly obeyed. The bustling atmosphere was as pleasant as the rising sun. He allowed a small smile to grace his features—today was going to be a good day.

And then suddenly, he became aware that something was different. At first, he couldn't quite put his finger on it. There wasn't really anything wrong—it just was not the same as before. After two hallways and a turn to the left, he finally figured it out.

He pulled aside a young secretary who looked like she knew what she was doing and politely asked her a question. She reddened and looked away, mumbling a reply. To her surprise, she was answered with a jolly laugh and a pat on the back. And just like that, the Fuhrer had continued on, as if nothing had happened.

In fact, Bradley walked straight out of HQ and into the nearest clothing store, shaking with genuine mirth all the way.

* * *

"Good morning," Hawkeye greeted from behind a stack of papers. Her fellow officers groaned in reply.

"Nice to see you too." Immune to their protests, she began distributing the work, and then headed off to deliver the colonel's share. Her hand was on the doorknob when she suddenly paused. She turned her head just the slightest bit so she could see all her coworkers in her peripheral vision. After confirming her initial observation, she opened the door and entered Mustang's office with a slightly bemused expression.

"Something the matter, Hawkeye?" The colonel asked, immediately picking up on her confusion.

"Colonel…what day is it today?" She set a pile of manila folders on his desk.

"Saturday, I think." He glanced at the calendar sitting next to his pen holder, pointedly ignoring the newly issued work in front of him. "Yeah, Saturday. The sixth. Of November."

"Is today a sort of…holiday? Celebration? Anything going on?" She subtly inched the stack forward with each question, forcing him to notice it.

"Not that I know of," Mustang answered with a sigh, faced with no choice but to open the top folder of the pile. "Though I think I heard on the radio that it's National-Bring-Your-Clogs-To-Work-Day. Of course, no one's actually going to do that."

"It's not footwear," Hawkeye murmured. "It's shirts."

"Shirts? No, I'm pretty sure I heard 'clogs.'"

"No, sir, not that." She exhaled through her nose. "Shirts. Red shirts. Everyone in the office—in the entire HQ, even—they're all wearing red shirts under their uniforms."

"Really?" Mustang was quizzical. "Are you feeling alright, Hawkeye?"

She crossed her arms. "Perfectly fine, thanks for asking, sir. You can go out and see for yourself. Havoc, Fuery, Falman, Breda, the janitor, that secretary you're always flirting with…even the Fuhrer is wearing a red shirt today."

"Hm. That's interesting." Mustang put his pen down with a determined expression and an inward sigh of relief, glad to have a distraction from his paperwork. "I wonder why _we_ weren't informed about this." He got up and made his way to the door. "Let's find out, shall we?"

Hawkeye opened her mouth to redirect his attention to his work, but her curiosity got the best of her and she wordlessly followed.

* * *

The two entered the outer office while the others were in the midst of a conversation.

"I hope the color will wash out," Havoc was saying, tugging at the collar of the shirt underneath his uniform.

"You're telling me that you _dyed_ your shirt?" Breda looked at his friend in disbelief.

Havoc shrugged. "I don't have any naturally red shirts. So sue me."

"Well, now you do," Fuery piped up.

"But that's the thing," Havoc came back to his earlier statement. "I don't want it to stay red."

"Why not?" Falman asked. "According to a recent survey, ninety-one percent of single females say their favorite color is red, crimson, pink, or any other similar shade thereof."

Havoc considered this new piece of information, but after a few moments he shook his head. "Well, I can't very well wear _this _shirt when I'm trying to pick up a girl."

"And why not?" Breda seemed amused at the circles Havoc seemed to be going in.

"Because…" Havoc paused, considering his words carefully. "It's not all red."

Fuery choked on his coffee. "You mean you didn't dye the entire shirt?"

Havoc unfastened the top button of his uniform to show the others the white underneath. "I don't have enough money for that much dye. People will only see my collar, anyway, so that's all that counts."

Breda shook his head. "I'm disappointed in you, Jean. A half-red shirt is not in the spirit of this day."

"And exactly what day is it, Breda?"

"It's—" Breda stopped mid-sentence, realizing that it was the colonel who had just spoken. "—Saturday. It's Saturday today."

"Indeed." Mustang regarded the office coolly. Breda was smiling nervously. Fuery had choked on his coffee a second time at the colonel's unexpected interjection and was busy mopping up the spill. Havoc was trying to subtly re-button his uniform. Falman might have blinked, though Mustang wasn't sure since the human encyclopedia always seemed to have his eyes closed anyway.

"But it seemed that you were implying something special about today, Breda." Hawkeye picked up where Mustang had left off.

Breda silently wondered why he was always the one who had to undergo these interrogations, and he barely managed to maintain his composure as he answered, "Uh…"

Havoc slid a stray piece of paper back and forth across his desk as he came to Breda's rescue. "Nah, nothing special, Lieutenant. We were just thinking that we shouldn't have to be in the office at all on such a beautiful Saturday."

Hawkeye resisted the urge to roll her eyes. "I see. Perhaps you should petition the Fuhrer."

"That's a great idea, Hawkeye!" Havoc got up. "Let's go, everyone! To the Fuhrer!" The men hastily exited the room, leaving their two thoroughly confused superior officers alone.

"Well." Mustang said after a silence, wandering over to Havoc's desk. "That was…"

"…interesting," Hawkeye finished tactfully.

"Hm," Mustang didn't seem to hear her, as he was reading the paper Havoc had been playing with earlier. After a few seconds, he smirked. "Guess what day today is, Lieutenant."

"I don't know if you heard, sir, but it's Saturday." The corner of her mouth twitched. "And also National-Bring-Your-Clogs-To-Work-Day, or so I've been told."

"Read this, Hawkeye." Mustang held up the paper so she could see it.

"…" She opened her mouth, and then closed it again. "…So that's it," she said finally.

"Unbelievable, isn't it?" Mustang laughed and put the paper back on the desk. "You said even the Fuhrer was wearing red today?"

She nodded wordlessly.

His smirk widened. "Well, nice to see that he supports Wear-Red-If-You-Think-Colonel-Roy-Mustang-and-Lieutenant-Riza-Hawkeye-Should-Totally-Get-Together-Day."

She snorted, shaking her head with a tired smile. "I just…I can't believe it."

"Me neither," Mustang agreed. "But I'm sure they'll come up with a better name someday."

She looked at him. "That wasn't…never mind. Anyway, what are we going to do now?" She gestured at the empty office. "They obviously didn't really go to find the Fuhrer. I think we shouldn't expect them till after lunch."

"That's alright. Now we have till then to get some shopping done."

She raised an eyebrow. "Come again?"

He extended his hand towards her with a grin. "I don't know about you, but I think I want to go get a red shirt."

She slowly placed her hand in his, smiling. "I suppose I have no choice but to join the cause, then."

"Oh, but you do have a choice, dear Lieutenant," Roy corrected. "And you support this day, don't you?"

She laughed as the two walked out of the office, hands just barely touching. "I do."

**A/N: Today is 11/6. Royai day is 6/11. See what I did there? ;) Another update shall be coming in two weeks...grrr. Who knew junior year could be so time consuming?**

**Well, thank you very much for reading, and I hope you enjoyed this chapter ^^**


	33. 033: A Walk

**A/N: Happy Holidays, everyone! Terribly sorry for the kind-of-unannounced hiatus, but I've been so busy these past couple months it's not even funny. But I finally found some time to write up a few drafts and post a new chapter for all you wonderfully patient readers, so please enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: I asked Santa for FMA this Christmas, but alas...**

"_Who _did you just say was so short that he could live in a log cabin built from ten toothpicks?"

"I believe I was addressing you, Fullmetal, unless you're implying that you're actually _taller_ than anyone else in this room."

Hawkeye closed her eyes and sighed through her nose. She'd lost track of how long this particular argument between her superior and his wayward subordinate had been going on for. She couldn't even remember how it had started. After awhile all of these disputes were starting to meld into one horrible, endless nightmare.

"What was that, you old bastard? Try not to speak to the floor, though I know it's hard since your spine is bent double with age," Ed snarled.

"And yet, at half of my full height, I still tower over you," Mustang countered smoothly.

Hawkeye silently counted to ten, desperately hoping that the quarrel would just wear itself out. After all, the colonel still had mounds of paperwork to do and Ed, no doubt, had other places to be.

"Fuck you." Ed spat in his adversary's face. "Pity for the elderly is all that's keeping me from breaking every one of your ancient, fragile, arthritis-ridden bones."

"Bring it on, _Short_metal," Mustang taunted, unfazed. "My grandmother could take you with both hands tied behind her back, and she's _dead_."

A vein in her forehead twitched sporadically. Riza Hawkeye was on her last nerve, and it was quickly fraying.

"_Who's_ so short he could go whitewater rafting on a waistcoat button?" Ed jabbed a finger into Mustang's chest menacingly.

"I _said_ it was _you_—what's wrong, Edward? Is your unfortunate vertical circumstance affecting your hearing, now?"

And it snapped.

Before either could utter another insult, Ed and Mustang found themselves shoved out the Central HQ doors and into the chilly autumn air (how Hawkeye managed to march the two through the maze of hallways leading from the office to the front entrance before anyone could blink is still a mystery to this day).

"You two. Are being. Ridiculous," she growled through gritted teeth. "Take. A walk. A long one." After glaring dangerously at the pair, she slammed the doors with a force that seemed to rattle the entire building.

"Great, Colonel Bastard, now look what you've done," Ed complained. "Even _I _haven't gotten kicked out of HQ before."

"I believe we're both equally at fault here, seeing as she threw us both out," Mustang reasoned calmly. "Now, perhaps we should heed her advice and take a quick stroll through the city. I, for one, do not want my brains shot out by our lovely sniper."

"I don't need to stroll _anywhere_ with you, shithead," Ed grumbled, but he reluctantly followed the colonel out into the streets.

Ed simmered in silence for a few minutes before his impatience got the better of him. "Are we done now? I need to go grab Al and then get out of here. No train will leave soon enough."

"Edward," Mustang began almost lazily, "You and I both know that you can't leave without getting your mission first, and both it and your brother are back at my office. So, unless you want to chance an encounter with a more-than-slightly-pissed-off Lieutenant Hawkeye, I suggest we wait a little longer."

Ed studied his breath as it misted in the cold air in front of him. "When will it be safe, do you think?"

"Hm. I'd give us at least two more blocks before even thinking about turning back," Mustang replied.

Ed glanced at his superior out of the corner of his eye. "Sounds like you've had this experience before, Colonel," he said, sounding amused.

"You could say that," was the vague reply.

"What'd you do the other times? Set your paperwork on fire? Give Fuery too much coffee? Hide her guns?"

"You're awfully nosy today, Fullmetal," Mustang commented with a raised eyebrow. Ed shrugged. The colonel continued. "For your information, I didn't get kicked out for doing those things. But if Hawkeye's anger level is like her father's, I have a pretty good idea of when she'll calm down enough for us to go back."

"You knew her father?" Ed asked on impulse. He winced inwardly; Mustang was going to make him pay later for posing such personal questions. But he couldn't help it—his natural curiosity had gotten the better of him, and it was something to do to fill the time.

After a moment of thoughtful silence, Mustang answered, "Yes. Quite well, I should say, seeing as he was the one who taught me alchemy."

Ed was so surprised he almost tripped over his own feet. "Really? You and the lieutenant go that far back?"

"I met her when I was eleven," Mustang answered.

"Huh." Ed took time to process this new information. Then he smirked.

"What?" Mustang looked at him.

"Nothing." Ed pointedly turned his gaze the other way.

"Edward…"

"Well, I was just thinking that if you've had this crush on Hawkeye for more forty years, you should just go on and ask her out already." Ed's grin was mischievous, bordering on downright malicious.

Mustang didn't skip a beat. "First of all, Fullmetal, your implication that I am over fifty years old is drastically incorrect, unless you admit that you're shorter than a kidney bean—"

"What did you say, bastard?" Ed stopped abruptly and grabbed the collar of Mustang's coat. Several passersby glanced at the pair curiously.

"—and second," Mustang finished with a smirk, "how do you know Hawkeye and I aren't going out already?"

Ed stared.

The colonel casually brushed off the limp fist feebly clutching his lapel and began walking again, this time in the direction of HQ. He turned and called over his shoulder, "We can go back now, Fullmetal, so whenever you want to pick up your lower jaw from its wonderfully attractive spot on the ground…"

Ed quickly closed his mouth and darted after him. "Bastard! You're such a liar, Mustang, and you know it! There's no way—"

The colonel, amused, cut the irate teenager off. "You can discuss my ability to pick up women after you get one of your own, Edward."

Ed grinned fiercely. "You're on, Mustang!"

**A/N: And thus, the deal briefly mentioned in chapter 26 ("cureless") is born. I'll try to update more regularly now, hopefully on a weekly basis like before. Thanks for reading, and enjoy your holidays!**


	34. 034: Telephone

**A/N: Hm...looks like the every-other-week update schedule is going to work better for me at the moment. Hope you all don't mind ^^` Here's an extra-long chapter to make up for it, so enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: No tengo FMA. Entonces, estoy muy triste.**

"Hawkeye."

The lieutenant looked up from her desk. "Yes, Colonel?"

Mustang beckoned her with a hand movement. "Come here for a second."

"Does this have anything to do with your work, sir?" She asked pointedly, remaining firmly in her seat.

"…Yes." She gave him nothing more than a skeptical glance, prompting him to elaborate. "I promise, Hawkeye. If I don't get this matter solved, these files will never get signed."

She sighed. "Very well, sir." Getting up, she added, "though I doubt you'll even look at those papers before lunch, no matter what happens."

Ignoring her last comment, Mustang gestured at the wall across from him as soon as she reached his side. "…Does that painting look crooked to you?"

"…Sir." Hawkeye sighed deeply and massaged her forehead with one hand. "You can't be serious."

"But I am!" He insisted. "I'm positive that it's _crooked_. Just look at it."

"It looks fine, Colonel," she said very slowly, trying very hard not to strangle the impossible man in front of her.

At that moment, Havoc walked in, mercifully obstructing the picture from view by opening the door. "Hey, Colonel. Got some more files for you."

"I…uh…" Mustang trailed off, so agitated was he at the obvious crookedness of the object currently hidden from his sight.

"He means 'put them here, Havoc.'" Hawkeye pointed at one of the few clear spots on the Colonel's cluttered tabletop.

"Can do, Lieutenant." Havoc promptly plopped the papers in front of the distracted Mustang and strolled out of the office, leaving an exasperated Hawkeye attempting to lecture her sidetracked superior.

* * *

"Wonder what was going on in there," Havoc mused as he shut the door behind him.

Breda, the only other person in the outer office, was staring intently at a chessboard. "Mm."

"It probably had something to do with Ed," Havoc continued with a thoughtful expression. "I'm pretty sure I heard his name, and Mustang had that constipated look he always gets when Fullmetal's due to show."

"Uh huh." Breda carefully picked up a white pawn and moved it forward one space. Frowning, he began contemplating the black side's next move.

"Well, I'm getting some coffee. I'm going to need it once Ed comes marching in." Havoc turned to look over his shoulder. "Need anything, Breda?"

His coworker waved him away distractedly. With a shrug, Havoc disappeared into the hallway.

Breda stared at the board for a few more seconds before lifting his head, some of Havoc's words finally registering in his mind. "Wait, _what_ about Ed and his marching band?"

* * *

Having been convinced to abandon his chess game by a rather persuasive Hawkeye, Breda stepped into the equipment room in search of Fuery. The man in question was hunched in a corner, headphones fit snuggly over his ears, turning dials with the utmost concentration.

"Hey, Fuery. Got some orders for you." Breda waved the file folder in an attempt to get the other officer's attention.

Fuery looked up and motioned towards a file cabinet near the door. "JUST PUT IT UP THERE," he yelled loudly.

Breda winced, putting one hand to his ear as he placed the folder on top of the cabinet. "Geez, you don't have to shout. I'm right here."

The sergeant had turned back to his work, but he noticed that Breda was still speaking and looked up again. He tapped the headphones. "SORRY, CAN'T HEAR YOU," he yelled apologetically.

Breda shook his head, slightly amused. _That guy is the only person I know who can still sound sheepish while shouting at the top of his lungs._ "Never mind," he said. "Wasn't important." Turning to the door, Breda muttered, "Well, at least he won't be bothered even if Edward's marching band comes around."

Fuery was attempting to take off his headphones to make conversation with Breda, but by the time he'd finished pulling the clunky things over his head his colleague had already disappeared. Blinking, he tried to make sense of the words Breda had uttered. "Hold on…Mustang's holding hands with _who_?"

* * *

An hour later, Fuery headed back to the office to return some papers before heading out to lunch. When he walked in Falman was the only other person in the room. "Not going out to eat?"

Falman shook his head once, otherwise completely engrossed in a book so thick that it made Fuery's head swim just by looking at it.

Noting that Falman had at least responded in some way, Fuery continued the conversation. "Say, Falman, Breda mentioned something to me earlier and I want to confirm it with you."

An affirmative grunt from behind the dusty covers of the ancient tome.

"He said that Mustang was holding hands with somebody, and I was just wondering if it was the lieutenant."

Silence.

Fuery hastily added, "I mean, I was just thinking, if Breda thought it was worth mentioning, I don't think it would be the colonel just holding hands with anybody."

It was so quiet that Fuery could hear the paint peeling in the back corner of the office.

"Well then, I guess I'll, ah, go to lunch now. See you later, Falman." He made a quick retreat out the door.

Falman finally mustered the willpower to tear his severely squinting eyes from the precious pages in front of him, but his newly directed gaze was met with an empty room. "Huh," he said to himself, reflecting on what he'd just heard, "So. Mustang and Hawkeye are finally marrying, eh? Maybe I can still get something out of that bet."

* * *

Mustang stepped back to scrutinize his latest adjustment. "Does that look better, Hawkeye?"

"Yes. Sir. It looks. Wonderful." The lieutenant had long ago given up on persuading/threatening the colonel to consider his paperwork instead of that damn painting. Now she was just trying to make it through the rest of the day without too huge a headache. The incredible urge to hit her forehead against her desktop repeatedly was not helping.

Mustang rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "No, it seems a bit skewed to the right now…" He reached forward to fix the apparent imperfection, but quickly stepped to the side as the door to his office slammed open.

"Yo, Colonel," Ed greeted nonchalantly, settling himself comfortably on the sofa while Al gently closed the door behind them.

"Good afternoon to you too, Fullmetal," Mustang replied, lazy smirk perfectly in place, though his mind was secretly on other, irritatingly lopsided things.

"So, congrats on finally tying the knot with the lieutenant and all that," Ed continued casually, fingering the edge of the sofa arm. He flashed the colonel one of his more mischievous grins. " 'Bout time, if you ask me. You were taking _ages_ and I was getting worried, seeing as you don't have much time left anyway, being the fossil that you are."

"I…what?" For once, Mustang did not have a ready retort. Though, Hawkeye noticed with some satisfaction, his attention had finally been ripped away from the _perfectly oriented_ picture.

Ed turned to Hawkeye and jerked a thumb over his shoulder at Mustang, whose mouth was hanging open in a most attractive fashion while he attempted to recover from the shock of the teenager's previous statement. "No offense, Lieutenant, but I honestly don't see what you do."

"I believe there's been some misunderstanding, Edward," Hawkeye said slowly. "The colonel and I are not getting married."

"But that's what Falman said," Al objected. There was disappointment in his slightly echoed voice.

"Then Falman heard wrong," Mustang said, finally regaining his composure. He turned to Ed, casually changing the direction of the conversation. "Now, Fullmetal, do you have your report or did you lose it on your way through the Diminutive Valley of Midgets?"

"WHO ARE YOU CALLING SO SMALL HE COULD USE A PEANUT SHELL AS A TOBAGGAN?" Ed demanded.

Mustang shrugged and offered nothing but a malicious grin in reply.

"But sledding is fun, Brother," Al pointed out.

Ed snorted and pulled out a messily joined packet of papers from his coat pocket. "Here's your oh-so-important report, bastard. I hope you get a thousand paper cuts trying to read it."

"Your wish is duly appreciated, Fullmetal," Mustang answered coolly, accepting the suspiciously stained gift.

"Whatever. Al and I need to leave now. I've had enough of your face to last three lifetimes." Ed got up and put one hand on the doorknob.

"Wait." Mustang stopped him. "One more question, Edward."

Ed rolled his eyes. "What, Colonel Bastard?"

Mustang turned to ponder the wall in front of him. "Does this look crooked to you?"

**If you think that some of the mis-hearings are a bit far-fetched, you have never played "Telephone" before XD Thanks much for reading, and hope you'll be back in two weeks ^^**


	35. 035: Letter

**A/N: Aah, sorry sorry sorry for the late post! On Friday I got locked out of my house, on Saturday I had the SAT, and it's finals week this week, so I've been very busy ^^` But here I am now with another (long) chapter, so enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own FMA or any of its wonderful characters.**

Havoc walked casually into the office, trying not to show how out of breath he was from dashing through the hallways just seconds before. With Hawkeye around, it was never good to be even a split second late. That one time he slipped up…well, dwelling on bad memories did no good.

He was diverted from his gloomy musings when he noticed Breda, Falman, and Fuery huddled in a corner, as far away from Mustang's closed office door as possible. Curious, Havoc tossed his jacket over his chairback and joined his friends. "Hey, guys. Whatcha doin' ?"

Breda quickly pulled him down into a crouching position and hissed, "Say that a little louder, would ya, so Hawkeye can come in and shoot us so full of holes even the swiss cheese in my sandwich wouldn't have anything to boast about!"

"Alright, alright," Havoc said more quietly, straightening the collar of his uniform, looking slightly miffed. "Don't get your boxers in a bunch."

"We're writing some letters," Fuery offered, answering his earlier question.

"Letters, huh?" Havoc perked up. "Love letters? Those are the best kind."

Breda rolled his eyes. "Of _course_ the first thing you think of is _love letters_, you romantic idiot," he snorted at the same time as Falman said, "Correct, Havoc."

Havoc paused to give Breda a winning grin before turning back to Falman. "Really? Who to?"

"_To whom_," Falman immediately corrected. "And the letter isn't really from any of us, exactly. We're just writing for the intended sender to the intended recipient."

"I see…no, I don't. You know how I get when you use too many words in one sentence," Havoc complained.

"Basically," Fuery explained, "we're writing a letter to the lieutenant that looks like it came from the colonel, and we're writing one to the colonel that's supposed to come from the lieutenant."

"Oh!" Havoc's eyes lit up with understanding. "Sweet, to finally get them together, right?"

"Fuery used more words than I did," Falman grumbled under his breath.

"So what do we have so far?" Havoc grabbed the sheet from Breda and read it. "Wow. This is good. Maybe you should take out the part about the ADHD monkeys with grape juice, though."

"I think it adds character," Breda said defensively.

"Um…but do you think the lieutenant would really say that?" Fuery pointed out timidly.

"Fine, fine," Breda sighed, crossing out the aforementioned line. "But I'm keeping the part about frolicking in the daisy fields."

Havoc pulled a pen from his pocket and a slightly stained napkin. " And while you do that, I'll start on Mustang's half."

"I'll help," Fuery offered.

"No, no, I got it," Havoc assured him. "Believe me, I know that damn date-stealer well enough."

"Just don't let your emotions get in the way. Try to put yourself in Mustang's shoes," Falman advised.

Havoc's eye twitched maniacally. "If I had that bastard's shoes, I'd laugh in his face and then go pick up chicks with them, 'cause I bet his secret to getting all those girls are those shiny boots of his. I swear that amount of sparkle is unnatural; maybe he gets them from Armstrong."

Breda rolled his eyes at his friend's ramblings. "_Someone_ clearly had a bit too much coffee this morning."

* * *

Hawkeye sat at her desk, diligently working away at the tidy pile of incomplete paperwork in front of her. The colonel was being surprisingly quiet as well.

Too quiet.

She suddenly realized that she hadn't heard any paper rustling, pen scratching, finger drumming, or dark mutterings for the past fifteen minutes. Something was definitely wrong.

Hawkeye looked up to find her superior staring off into space, a blissful smile on his lips. Actually, he wasn't gazing into the distance; he was looking down at the paper in front of him. She sighed. He was probably napping with his eyes open again. Ever since he had discovered this newfound talent a few weeks ago he'd been "practicing" every single day.

"Sir." She got up and approached his desk. "Sir? Please get back to work." She waved a hand in front of his face, snapping him out of his reverie.

"Wha? Oh, sorry, Hawkeye. I was just…" he glanced down again and that silly grin was in place once more. "…so happy."

"Come again, sir?" Hawkeye examined the paper in front of him. It was a standard form, requiring his signature at the bottom. But Mustang had never finished—a single "R" had been completed with a flourish, but no other letters followed.

"Look at it, Hawkeye." He made a tiny "ta-da" gesture at the single character. "It's so…perfect."

"…It's the first letter of your name, sir. You've written it millions of times before." Hawkeye kept her voice calm, but she was screaming inside. Sometimes, she just had to wonder about Roy's sanity. He genuinely cared about things like the crookedness of a picture or the beauty of a perfectly penned word. On days like these, in her mind, she saw Ed giving her a puzzled look and asking "_Lieutenant, why _him_, of all people?_" And she still didn't know.

"No, I've written 'R' a million times before. But I've never written… '_R_'…" Mustang sighed happily and rested his chin in his hand, still marveling.

"For the love of…" Exasperated, Hawkeye picked up his pen and pulled a sheet of scratch paper from a nearby stack. With a few expert strokes, she copied the marvelous letter perfectly and stuck the finished product under her colonel's nose. "There. Keep that, sir, and then you can get back to your paperwork."

Mustang gaped. "Hawkeye…how…" He looked back from his "R" to her "R" and then back again. His lips slowly quirked into his signature smirk, already planning to make use of this newly discovered piece of information. "I didn't know you possessed such wonderful forgery skills, Lieutenant."

She rolled her eyes. "It's not forgery, it's practice. I have an 'R' in my name, too, sir. I just write it more often because I actually _complete_ all of my paperwork."

He laughed. "Point taken, Hawkeye. For your excellent work, I'll finish this stack by the end of today. Promise."

She gave him a wry smile. "Glad to hear it."

* * *

Fuery glanced around furtively before opening the door to the file room, two envelopes in hand. Quickly, he found the lieutenant's and the colonel's respective boxes. He stuck the letter from "Roy" in Hawkeye's empty box and slipped the note written by "Riza" into the messy stack of papers flowing out of Mustang's box. With any luck Hawkeye would check her inbox and then bring the colonel's new stack of work back too so he could find his letter as well. Mission completed, Fuery closed the door behind him and headed toward the equipment room, passing Hawkeye on the way. It took all he had to keep from squeaking, but he managed to flash her a weak smile before speeding up his pace as casually as possible.

_Fuery's looking a little high-strung today...more than usual, at least_, Hawkeye thought to herself. _I should talk to the break room about just offering decaf_.

Upon entering the file room, she noticed with some surprise that there was something in her inbox. She examined the envelope, curious, and noted that it was addressed to "Riza" in curling script. Immediately, she knew who it was supposed to be from, from the tiny "R.M." inscribed in the corner where a stamp would've normally gone. And, recalling the flustered Fuery she'd encountered moments before, she realized who the actual senders were. "Those guys," she sighed out loud. "They must have put a lot of money in that bet." Amused, she opened the envelope and read the note just to see what they'd come up with.

_My dearest Riza,_

_I know that you watch my back because I told you to. But I also know that there's something more to that._

___I know you love me._

___And I know that I'm a mean, arrogant, deceitful, womanizing, shiny-booted bastard who doesn't deserve you._

___But I want you. So I hope you'll have me._

___Love,_

___Roy_

"That was certainly...succinct," she couldn't help observing to herself. "The colonel should really should stop picking on Havoc...that poor man's apparently having some issues." She wandered over to Mustang's box and immediately picked out the cream-colored envelope that was supposedly from her. She took it and looked at it, wondering if she should open it as well. _I'll give it to him tomorrow_, she decided, pocketing the letter. _I'm definitely not wasting this chance to get him to actually do paperwork_.

On her way back, she wondered exactly how she was going to face her colleagues in the office without laughing.

**A/N: Well, a little longer than usual, but hopefully still satisfactory :) So, do you guys want a continuation of this for the next chapter, or are you okay with just leaving it here? **

**Thanks for reading!**


	36. 036: Dog

**A/N: Sorry! Gomensai! Dui bu qi! Lo siento! Long apology note after the chapter. Now read!**

**Disclaimer: Do not own. If I did, I probably would've had more time to update sooner -.-**

Mustang looked up from the paper and raised an eyebrow at his lieutenant. "_This _is what they came up with?"

"Evidently," she replied, shrugging. Nothing else could be said.

His entire body shook, though Hawkeye knew that it was just from the laughter he was barely holding in. "Really. This is what you want to do while 'frolicking through the meadows?' I didn't know you enjoyed those kinds of fantasies, Lieutenant."

"Because I don't," she pointed out matter-of-factly. "Though I'm a bit disturbed that they perceive me as that sort of person."

Mustang opened his mouth to make a smart comment but was interrupted by the dramatic opening of his office door. Edward Elric came marching in, Alphonse following much more quietly. "Yo, Colonel Bastard. Came to make my report and ya da ya da ya da." His golden eyes immediately zoned in on the sheet in Mustang's hands. "What's that?"

"A love letter from Hawkeye," Mustang answered with a smirk.

"Really?" Al's tinny voice reverberated with excitement. "She finally—"

"No, Alphonse," she cut him off. "I'm afraid the colonel misspoke. It's actually a love letter written by our wonderful colleagues and signed with my name."

"So it's not yours." Ed snatched the paper from Mustang and skimmed it. His eyebrows rose a couple inches. "Woah. This is the most rainbow-y shit I've ever seen barfed up on a page. And that's saying something."

"Indeed." The colonel delicately plucked the letter from the bemused teenager's grasp. " 'Rainbow-y shit' is quite the oxymoron. Just like Tall Fullmetal—"

"WHO ARE YOU CALLING SO SHORT THAT HE COULD USE A COW'S EYELASH FOR A HAMMOCK?" Ed lunged for Mustang's neck, but an unperturbed Hawkeye deftly grabbed his collar and held him back.

Mustang, unfazed, watched contentedly as his young subordinate struggled and sputtered, but was distracted when Al spoke up. "So if Havoc and the others wrote a letter from the lieutenant to you, then they should've also written one from you to the lieutenant."

"Correct, Alphonse," Mustang acknowledged, leaning back in his chair. "And I think it was a rather gross misrepresentation to say the least. So I think some proper retribution is in order, yes?"

"Is that really necessary, sir?" Hawkeye asked, releasing Ed now that he had calmed down sufficiently. "If you let this go half the day can still be productive."

"Now then, Lieutenant," the colonel gave her a knowing glance. "I know that you want some sort of payback. After writing _that_ and trying to pass it off as coming from you…?"

"…It was a little rude," she admitted.

Mustang grinned, sensing victory. "Exactly. Now, don't worry. I'll be sitting here diligently working for the rest of the afternoon. Because luckily for us, we have a couple of teenagers in town who, I'm sure, would love to pull off a prank or two."

"If you're suggesting me and Al," Ed huffed, "you're out of luck, bastard. We have better things to do than run around carrying out your revenge."

"Look here, Fullmetal," Mustang reasoned, tapping his desk with a finger to emphasize his point. "I need you and your scheming little mind—"

"WHO ARE YOU CALLING SO SMALL THAT HE WOULD NEED A MILLION BITES TO EAT HALF A CHICKPEA?" Hawkeye was a tad slow this time and caught Ed when he was already halfway through his dive, his fingertips almost scratching his target's nose.

Mustang didn't blink. "My apologies, Fullmetal. Force of habit. But I'm serious about this. If you come through for me, I won't make you turn in a formal report for this visit."

Ed paused mid-rage. "Really? I won't have to write anything?"

Mustang shook his head emphatically. "Not a word."

"Alright then." Ed grinned viciously. "Four packages of sweet vengeance coming your way."

"Sounds fun," Al said, surprisingly cheerful.

Hawkeye exhaled loudly through her nose. "Letting you read that letter was a bad idea, sir."

* * *

"Has anyone seen my glasses?" Fuery patted around his desktop, but did not encounter his spectacles. "I think I misplaced them somehow."

Havoc leaned over his own table and spotted an object lying on the floor by Fuery's garbage can. "Looks like they dropped. They're right by your trash, Fuery."

"Oh, thanks." Fuery bent down slowly and groped blindly for a few seconds before grasping them. He sat up, adjusting the glasses on his nose and blinking furiously.

"Something the matter?" Breda looked up from his tic-tac-toe game with himself.

"No, it's nothing," Fuery assured his officemate. To himself, he muttered, "Usually takes a few seconds to adjust…"

Hawkeye entered the room. "Fuery? Would you mind taking these to the file room for me?" She handed him a packet.

"Sure, Lieutenant." He hesitantly reached out and clumsily took the papers from her. He stood up and hit his knee on the desk. "Ow!"

"Everything alright?" She looked at him, concerned.

"Fine, Lieutenant. Everything's fine." He gave her a shaky smile before shuffling quickly towards the door. Unfortunately, he didn't notice the book-bag laying a ways from Falman's desk and tripped over it, almost falling headfirst into the carpet, though he managed to right himself at the last minute after wind-milling his arms for a few perilous moments. He grinned sheepishly over his shoulder as he continued walking. "Haha, didn't see that there…" He turned around just in time to smack into the doorframe.

When Fuery woke up, he found himself in the HQ infirmary with a sizeable lump on his forehead. He picked up his glasses from the bedside table and squinted at them. "That's odd…I just got new lenses the other day, too…maybe I need to check my prescription again."

* * *

Falman entered the office after lunch, humming happily. He was always the first one back, which meant that he had a few precious moments alone to enjoy his dictionary in peace and quiet. He had just ended on "salubrious" and was looking forward to rereading the rest of the wonderfully lengthy "S" section.

He sat down at his desk and took a minute to enjoy the awe-inspiring beauty of the cover. The lettering was a little faded from the 1,254 times he'd already read through the dictionary, but the cover still looked as intriguing as it had on the day he'd first spotted it in the bookstore. With a deep breath, he grasped the bottom corner and opened to the first page.

Or tried to. The book remained firmly closed, apparently unwilling to share its wonderful secrets with him for the 1,255th time. Frowning, he felt down the edges of the pages till his fingertips hit his bookmark. He tried to pull it out, but it wouldn't budge.

Frantically now, he scrabbled at the pages, desperate to open to any one of them. But the entire text seemed to be fused shut. It had effectively become a brick. But Falman wouldn't even dare _think_ of throwing his beloved dictionary at anything, as great as his frustration was.

Collapsing in defeat, his cheek resting on the adamant cover, Falman let out a very out-of-character wail that echoed throughout the entire HQ.

Hawkeye poked her head in. "Everything alright, Falman?"

"No. No, Lieutenant, nothing is alright." He dejectedly slid out of his chair and disappeared behind his desk. Out of sight, he curled up in the fetal position, trying to make some sense of the world that had now been turned upside down. "I'm going to take the rest of the day off. Actually, make that the rest of my life."

She raised her eyebrow, but nodded. "Hm. Go home then. But I will see you here tomorrow, Falman."

* * *

Shortly after Falman had dragged himself out the door, Havoc came in, resigning himself to work. He patted his pockets for a cigarette, but found none on his person. Shrugging, he headed over to his desk and pulled open the drawer with his secret stash.

His soggy secret stash.

Barely withholding an unmanly squeal of horror, He gingerly pulled out a dripping package and slapped it on his desk. His wonderfully clean desk that didn't have any liquid on it whatsoever. How could anything have spilled and leaked into his drawer?

He gloomily removed the rest of the formerly precious packages, throwing the now useless cigarettes into the trash. There went an entire paycheck's worth of smokes, just like that. Sighing, he reached into his pocket again, hoping to have enough money left to secure at least one box of dry cigarettes.

Staring at his empty wallet, Havoc finally recalled that he had spent the last of his change on a bet with the Elrics that morning (Who knew that Al was so flexible?). Moaning softly, he slumped into his chair, covering his face with his hands. No chance of borrowing from Hawkeye or the colonel. Fuery was in the infirmary and Falman had left early. Breda was in the same boat as he was (the Elric brothers had probably emptied the rest of HQ's pockets by now). He would just have to go through the rest of the day without a single smoke.

The thud Havoc's head made as it hit his desk was so loud it sent a large flock of scared birds flying from the tree outside the office window.

* * *

Breda strolled in five minutes after lunch ended, swallowing the last bite of his bacon sandwich. He cheerfully greeted Havoc (who was slowly withering away from lack of nicotine) before sitting at his own desk. He shuffled through the mess of papers, looking for his previous match of tic-tac-toe.

Ed came in and grinned at the remaining two officers. "Nice day, isn't it?"

Breda looked at him. "Nice to see you so happy, Ed."

"Even Brother can't resist the soothing qualities of Mother Nature," Al piped up. He looked down to Hayate, who sat dutifully by his side. "A walk around Central Park with the lieutenant's dog can cure just about anything."

"D-d-d-d-dog?" Breda froze.

Hayate barked.

With a (surprisingly girly) scream Breda jumped up, knocking his desk over. As papers flew everywhere he dashed out the door, wildly pushing past the Elric brothers and their canine companion.

"Oh, whoops!" Al let go of Hayate's leash, and the excited puppy, catching the scent bacon breath in the air, dashed after Breda, glad to be participating in this thrilling game of tag. The Elrics watched as Breda knocked several folders of important-looking files out of a secretary's grasp, upended two carts of expensive technology, and spilled a custodian's soapy water bucket across the hallway floor. Hayate followed closely behind, barking to show everyone how happy he was.

"Maybe we went a little too far with this one?" Al murmured, though he didn't seem especially worried.

"Oh, you think _this_ was bad?" Ed grinned maliciously. "Wait till you see the surprise I left for that bastard colonel."

* * *

Hawkeye watched from the window as Breda escaped outside, Hayate at his heels. "I'm having second thoughts about this revenge plan of yours, Colonel."

"Well, you can have them as much as you want, Hawkeye." Mustang leaned back in his chair with a satisfied sigh. "The deed has been done and I've finished my paperwork. Edward is happy and Alphonse gets to play with your dog. I think we can both feel very accomplished."

Hawkeye inclined her head after she heard a tiny _click_. "Sir? Did you hear—"

Mustang's chair back suddenly detached, falling to the ground with a crash. Mustang had been reclining too comfortably and could only descend with it. With an undignified yell, he flailed around in an attempt to keep his balance, but only succeeded in upsetting his carefully stacked tower of completed paperwork. Mustang lay in a mess of files, sprawled on the ground with his legs sticking comically up in the air.

Hawkeye barely suppressed a chuckle as she picked up one of the upset papers and examined it. "Hm, most of these are wrinkled or torn. Can't have that now, can we, sir? You'll have to redo them."

Before Mustang could utter a word of protest, a wall of water drenched the two officers. Both looked up at the ceiling, where a pipe had appeared, bearing a very familiar signature (complete with antenna and ha-ha-you-fell-for-it expression).

Mustang shook the wet hair out of his eyes and looked at the soggy mess around him. "That damn little…he did _not _just divert the bathroom pipeline to this office."  
Hawkeye flicked the safety off of her pistol in a business-like manner, sending water droplets flying off her waterlogged sleeve. "My gun is still dry, Colonel. Permission to capture target before he leaves the city?"

Mustang found an unharmed glove and pulled it on, a steely look in his eyes. "Right behind you, Lieutenant."

* * *

"You did _what_?" Al demanded as the two raced towards the train station. "Do you have a death wish, Brother? And the lieutenant will never let me play with her cute puppy again!"

"Hey, I didn't exactly want to prank Hawkeye because she's scary as hell, but she's always standing next to him and I can't direct the water that accurately." Ed glanced over his shoulder, but there was no sign of any vengeance-seeking officers yet. "Just think of it this way, Al. I brought them together. That's what you want, right?"

"I wanted them together because of _love_, not _Grrr-must-kill-Elrics_!" Al protested as the two entered the station.

Both brothers jumped as a bullet embedded itself in the lamppost beside them. The two barely dodged the spark of fire that followed. They stared at the now blackened cobblestone, but another snap brought them out of their daze.

The Elrics scrambled into a train car and Ed slammed the door behind them just as another bullet thudded into it. Al looked worriedly out the window. "Great. Now they not only want to kill us, but you made them pay for our train tickets."

Ed breathed a sigh of relief. "Hey, I was thinking of survival. The railway could afford a loss of a couple hundred cenz. Anyway, how does a long trip to Xing sound, Al?"

Mustang glanced back at Hawkeye as he handed over the ticket fee. "Promise me our kids won't be like this."

She gave him a look as she wrung out the hem of her sleeve. "Knowing you, sir, I can't promise anything."

**A/N: Alright, long apology time. I'm really terribly sorry for not updating in...four months, is it? *wince* I hate myself for doing this to you wonderful readers, especially since I get extremely annoyed when fanfic authors don't update for weeks on end. To be honest, I did have the ACT in February, and my SAT subject tests and AP tests are piling up, so my parents have been pretty "rawr" with me about studying as of late. Plus I've been preparing for an orchestra audition that I just finished last week. **

**But the bottom of it all was that I was stuck. It wasn't really like I had writer's block, because I was getting all sorts of ideas. Just not for this fanfic. I started another original story, wrote various oneshots and poems, began creating a manga...with all these things bouncing around in my head Royai kinda got pushed out. Plus, I'd kind of written myself into a corner. I was thinking about what "Riza's" letter should say, and still have it relate somehow to the theme of "dog." I played around with "Sirius-ly in love with you" (Sirius is the dog star, plus Roy's a "dog of the military"), but that idea didn't stick. Fortunately I got up in the middle of the night a couple of weeks ago and wrote down the frame of this chapter. And now that my spring break is here, I could finally finish writing and post it.**

**So I'm leaving the entire content of the "Riza" letter to the reader's imagination (you love it when the author does that, don't you?). To be honest I don't think anything I will ever come up with will be as outrageous as I've hinted it is. So there you go. I will try and update more frequently, but with all those tests in May I can't make any promises. So let's set a goal for one more chapter by the end of the month. Hope you don't mind the wait.**

**Thank you so much for reading (if you made it to the end of this horribly extended author's note, kudos to you :D)! **


	37. 037: Match

**A/N: It may be the second to last day of April, but I finally fulfilled my promise :) Enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: I own a lovely bunch of bananas on my kitchen counter, but sadly, no FMA to go along with it. **

"Alright, everyone!" Maes burst into the room. "No reason to be alarmed!"

The occupants of the office looked up. "Why do you think we would be alarmed?" Hawkeye, the first to recover, asked cautiously.

"Because you're all a bunch of worrywarts." Maes laughed brightly. "As if you ever need to be worried with _me_ around."

"The only time I ever worry _is_ when you're around," Breda muttered grumpily as he returned to his checkerboard. He stroked his chin for a moment, and then picked up his red piece. "Jump, jump, jump, jump…"

Fuery's jaw dropped a centimeter lower with every piece lost. "Why do I keep playing with you?" He moaned as Breda finally cleared the board.

"I dunno." Breda shrugged, holding out a hand. "Now pay up."

"Sir." Hawkeye looked over at her superior's desk. The occupant had remained mysteriously silent during this entire time. "Are you still awake?"

"Huh? What? Yeah. Hughes, what are you doing here?" With a grunt, Mustang pushed aside a pile of paperwork so he could see his friend. He stifled a yawn and blinked several times to give off the impression that he had not been sleeping for the past five minutes.

"I just need you all to fill out this form." Maes cheerfully added a stack of files to the dangerously towering tower of unsigned papers. "If you could swing by the Investigations Department and drop off the finished forms, Hawkeye, that would be wonderful."

Havoc wandered over to Mustang's desk and grabbed the top sheet. He examined it critically. "Hey, Maes. What's this for, exactly?"

His only answer was the door slamming closed.

Havoc scratched his head. "I didn't think it was possible for a door to sound _happy_ as it was being shut."

* * *

Mustang walked down the halls of HQ the next morning and passed the announcement bulletin board. Usually he ignored any posts on it, but today something caught his eye. He read the neatly typewritten sheet pinned to the very center of the board.

**LOOKING FOR THE MATCH OF YOUR DREAMS?**

**Come to the Investigative Department!**

**Dr. Love will set you up!**

Mustang stared at the notice for a few moments. He hadn't thought that Hughes' personality could be broadcast so strongly through such a bland typeface. Apparently nothing was safe from the irresistible aura that was Maes.

Sighing, he shook his head. Better get this straightened out before heading to the office. And it certainly gave him an excuse to avoid work.

Hughes' head snapped up as soon as Mustang walked through the door. "Why hello, there, Roy! I bet I can guess what you're here for." He bounded up to his friend and gave him a friendly elbow in the ribs.

Mustang chuckled. "And I bet I can guess what this whole matchmaker thing is really about."

"And what would that be?" Maes asked innocently as he returned to his desk to shuffle through some files. "I'm performing this service for the entire HQ. For free, too. Because Dr. Love is just that goodhearted."

"So _that's_ what those forms were really for yesterday," Mustang realized. "I was wondering why the Investigative Department would ever want to know my favorite color."

"I'm surprised you didn't guess when it asked you what your best date would be like." Hughes pulled out a sheet and opened it. "A long walk around the lake? You're such a softie, Roy."

Mustang snorted. "So…are you going to tell me my match or what?"

Hughes folded the paper up very carefully. "Only if you promise to go out with whoever has been matched with you. After all, the sacred matchmaker is never wrong."

Mustang rolled his eyes. "Uh huh, yeah, alright, Maes. Hand it over."

"Okay!" Hughes offered the paper, and Mustang took it. He sighed as he unfolded the sheet. _Maes and his plots. He obviously put Riza—_

**Kathryn Brown**

"…Wha?" Mustang stared at the unfamiliar name.

"Secretary on fourth floor. Very sweet." Maes nodded. Noticing Roy's shocked face, he inclined his head. "Oh? What's wrong, Roy? Had someone else in mind?"

"I…" Mustang lowered the paper slowly. "Uh…"

"There you are, sir." Hawkeye opened the door and walked in. "You should be in your office by now, you know."

"Hi, Hawkeye! Did you come for your match as well?" Hughes was already sorting through the box on his desk. "If you give me just one second…"

"That won't be necessary." Hawkeye shot the box a mildly annoyed look. "I really don't think a multiple choice test knows who my soul mate is better than I do."

"Point taken, Hawkeye." Hughes laughed and then turned to wink at Roy. "So, Mustang, how 'bout you? Want to see who _you_ were matched with?"

"Huh? I thought—" Mustang looked down at the sheet again and read the name on the top of the page. "…Why the hell did you give me _Havoc's_ paper?"

"Oops, sorry, my mistake." Hughes grinned. "Here's yours."

Brushing aside his urge to strangle his friend, Mustang smiled slightly as he read the name of his real match. He turned to Hawkeye and opened his mouth.

"I will, sir," She interrupted him before he could speak. "But only after work."

He closed his mouth, still smiling.

As Mustang followed her out of the office, Maes clapped a hand on his shoulder. "See? The matchmaker is never wrong."

**A/N: Short, but sweet, I hope? My school actually does a matchmaker thing similar to this where we fill in a test and then get the our top 40 matches in the entire school.**

**So...with AP tests these two weeks, I won't be free till the 13th of May (Friday the 13th...dun dun dun DUN.) So...gimme till the 20th to update, kay? Mkay.**

**(In other news, who's excited for the new FMA movie this summer? :D)**

**Thanks for reading!**


	38. 038: Mischief

**A/N: Ack, sorry for the wait! Enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own FMA. If I did, I'm sure I could come up with a more creative disclaimer than this one.  
**

"Sir."

Mustang looked up as his lieutenant opened the door to his office. "Yes, Hawkeye?"

She walked up to his desk and slammed her hands forcefully on top of his (blank) paperwork. She glared at him, amber eyes burning with a ferocious fire. "Where is it?"

"Where is what?" He asked, tilting his head, staring back steadily.

Her fingers curled slightly, on the verge of forming fists. "You know what I'm talking about."

"I don't think I do," Mustang drawled, leaning back slightly. Staying too close to a pissed-off Hawkeye was never an intelligent idea.

Her eyes narrowed, piercing into the dark depths of his gaze. "Last chance, Colonel. _Where did you put it_?"

"Put _what_, Hawkeye?" Mustang allowed a hint of frustration to seep into his voice. He threw his hands in the air. "Currently I'm more lost than Fullmetal in a cornfield."

She stared at him for a few more moments before straightening. "Was that implying that Edward is shorter than a cornstalk?"

"That's the idea, yes." Mustang relaxed, sensing that he had passed her interrogation. "Though upon reflection it isn't demeaning enough. I'll work on it a little more and get back to you on that."

"What you _should_ be working on are those files." The untouched papers had not escaped her notice. She turned on her heel and strode out of the room.

"So what exactly are you looking for, again?" Mustang called, refusing to be left unanswered.

Hawkeye looked over her shoulder. "It's nothing, sir. Don't worry about it. Work."

He sighed and picked up his pen, twirling it absentmindedly as he rested his chin on his other hand. If she were going to accuse him of something, he'd at least like to know what it was. It bothered him that he hadn't actually done what she'd thought he had. _I'm getting sloppy_, he thought idly. _I'll have to think up something even better than what I didn't do but she thought I did. Of course, I have to find out what I didn't do first._ He blinked. His thoughts were getting much too wordy. _Time for a coffee break_.

* * *

"Sheesh." Ed walked into the office. "What's up with Hawkeye? She walked by us in the hallway and I could _hear _the waves of tension echoing off of Al's armor."

"It was scary," Al added.

Ed paused, taking in his surroundings. "What's wrong with _you_ guys? You look like you've seen a ghost."

"I have," Havoc mumbled, cigarette hanging limply from his bottom lip. "I've seen the ghost of…myself. I feel like she just ran me through at least a dozen times with a rusty steak knife. Except she didn't even come close to touching me. She just said it all through that killer gaze." He shivered.

"What did you guys _do_?" Al asked, horrified.

"That's what _we'd_ like to know," Breda groaned, covering his face with a hand. "The sooner we fix it, the sooner she'll stop mentally choking me while slowly roasting me over an open fire."

"Well, was she like this when she came in for work? Or did something happen before she started telepathically communicating each of your horrible deaths?" Ed flopped onto the sofa.

"When she came in she was alright," Fuery answered, fidgeting with the dials of the radio on his desk. "Actually, by the time I'd arrived, she was already here, but she'd stepped out to get some files. She came back and greeted me nicely enough. Then she looked around and suddenly it got really cold." He trembled at the recollection. "She kept asking where _it_ was, but none of us knew. She went in to ask the colonel, but he must not have known either because she left the office without even speaking a word to us."

"The message was received, though," Havoc grimaced. "_Someone's_ going to pay."

The room was silent for a moment. Ed fiddled with the edge of his jacket, eyes downcast. Al nudged him. "Um, Brother…maybe…"

"Let's go, Al," Ed said abruptly, standing up.

"What about your report to the colonel?" Falman asked.

"We'll come back later," Ed promised as he slammed the door behind him.

* * *

True to his word, the Fullmetal Alchemist stood in Mustang's office an hour later, a box and folder tucked under his arm.

Mustang made a big show of concentrating on his paperwork, leaving Ed to shift agitatedly from one foot to the other as he waited to be addressed. The teenager's patience wore thin quite rapidly. "Yo, Colonel Bastard. Stop pretending to do work. You've been staring at the same spot for the past thirty seconds."

Mustang looked up and glanced around once before going back to his "work."

Ed's eyebrow twitched. "Hey. Up _here_, you deaf old man."

"Hm?" Mustang finally seemed to notice his subordinate. "Oh, hello there, Fullmetal. My apologies. I thought I'd heard something annoyingly squeaky and high-pitched, but I'm afraid that, from where I'm sitting, I can't see anything that's less than a centimeter from the ground."

Ed's grip on the objects under his arm tightened, a vein on his neck throbbing visibly. "WHO ARE YOU CALLING SO SMALL THAT HE COULD COMFORTABLY LIVE IN A THIMBLE HIS ENTIRE LIFE?"

Mustang smirked, enjoying the reward for his morning's effort. "If you're suggesting you are capable of doing so, Fullmetal, I applaud you. That is certainly quite the feat."

Ed sputtered and dropped the folder and box, fists clenching as he lunged at Mustang.

"Calm down, Edward." Hawkeye appeared just in time to hold back the extremely irate alchemist. "You do realize that every time you overreact is just motivating the colonel to continue his insults, yes?"

Ed fumed, but let his fists drop to his sides. "But he's such a smug _bastard_. I'd like to rearrange his face just _once_."

Hawkeye sighed and bent down to retrieve the fallen objects, one hand still on Ed's shoulder. "Rearranging will have to wait, Edward. This is your report?" She held up the slightly crumpled folder. He nodded, still glaring daggers at the colonel.

"And what's this?" Hawkeye picked up the box and examined it curiously.

"Oh." Ed tore his attention away from the smirking Mustang and rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. "That's…_it_. Well, a replacement anyway. The original is…um…gone."

"Hm. So it was you." Hawkeye looked at him, expression unreadable.

"Yeah…I'm so sorry, Lieutenant. Al and I came in too early this morning, so Mustang wasn't here yet. I saw the box on the sofa, and I opened it…I only wanted to try one, but I ended up eating the whole thing because I didn't have breakfast." Ed turned his head to the side and winced, waiting for Hawkeye to punch his face in or something to that extent.

A quiet chuckle escaped her lips and she patted his back reassuringly. "It's alright, Edward. No harm done. I'm sure these will be just as delicious as the ones you sampled this morning."

"So all this fuss was over _chocolate_?" Mustang finally spoke up, disbelief written all over his face.

Hawkeye raised an eyebrow. "Are you suggesting that something is wrong with that, sir?"

"Of course not," Mustang smiled easily. "But I do think that you owe me, Lieutenant, for that wrongful accusation earlier."

She sighed. "I apologize for assuming that you were the culprit, sir. Even though my suspicions were simply based on prior experiences."

"You don't sound sorry at all, Hawkeye," Mustang pretended to pout. "I'm hurt."

She exhaled again and pinched the bridge of her nose. "Very well, sir. What do you want?"

His pout quickly turned into a wide grin. "I'd like you to go out on a date with me tonight."

The tiniest smile graced her lips, but she still managed to sound exasperated. "Somehow, I saw that coming."

"…Well…I'll be leaving now…" Ed awkwardly retreated to the door, blushing slightly. "I'll leave you guys…to it…and stuff…yeah." He exited the office.

Mustang laughed, and Hawkeye chuckled softly again. "The way he acted, you'd think we were going to do it right here," Mustang snickered.

"Teenage minds are rather imaginative," Hawkeye observed, amused. She glanced over to the colonel. "But you'll have to wait till after dinner. And you have to finish all your paperwork first if we're to go out tonight at all."

"Aw, you're so cruel, Hawkeye," Mustang groaned, his face twisted in mock anguish.

"I'm worth the wait though, aren't I?" Her eyes glinted mischievously as she handed him Ed's report. "See you at six, Roy."

Mustang smiled as she closed the door behind her. "See you, Riza."

**A/N: Sorry, didn't mean to post a day late -.-' But better late than never, right? Right. Expect regular updates for the next couple of weeks, but on June 9 I'll be going to Europe for ten days, so I may not be able to update till I get back (and recover from jet lag).**

**Thanks for reading!  
**


	39. 039: Sly Person

**A/N: Early update, for once :D Because I'm going camping for Memorial Day weekend. Enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own FMA in any way, shape, or form...I also promise to come up with a more entertaining disclaimer next time.  
**

"In here!"

"Right behind you, sir."

Mustang rushed into the dim room, fingers ready to snap at a moment's notice. Hawkeye came in on his heels, covering him.

The door slammed shut. They whipped their heads around at the noise.

"Shit," Mustang muttered through gritted teeth. He strode over to the door and jiggled the knob. "Locked."

"That can be remedied. Step aside, sir." He moved swiftly to the right, allowing Hawkeye ample room to fire.

She narrowed her eyes, zoning in on the keyhole that barred their way to freedom.

_Bang!_

Mustang grabbed the knob again and turned it. He swore again when the door refused to budge. "The bastard. He must've blocked it from the outside."

She lowered her gun slowly. "With alchemy, probably."

He nodded, turning to face her. He leaned against the door and covered his face with a hand. "Dammit. He had this whole thing planned out already. That sly son of a—"

"Can you get rid of it?" She walked over and knocked at the door experimentally. "Hm. Not wood. What a shame."

"Not a pure metal either," Mustang observed, having regained his composure. He brushed his hand over it a few times. "Some kind of alloy. Maybe steel…looks kinda brownish. Some bronze?"

"I think that's just rust, sir." She managed to keep the amusement out of her voice.

He scratched at it and examined his gloved fingernails. "Hm. I suppose you're right, Lieutenant."

"Well? Can you make a hole in it or something?" Hawkeye traced a circle in the air with her finger. "You're an alchemist too, sir, if you've forgotten."

Mustang cast her a mildly annoyed look. "Yes, Hawkeye, I know. But it's gonna take time—can't just clap my hands and make it happen like Fullmetal."

She crossed her arms and leaned against the wall next to him, managing to look completely serious. "I apologize for my impatience, sir. I hadn't realized that you were quite useless _out_ of the rain as well."

He gave her his best glare, though he had heard the lightness in her tone. "Less of the U-word, Hawkeye, if you could. I just need to find something to write with and we'll be out of here faster than you can say 'Fullmetal's so short he can't even reach a doorknob made for mice.'"

She raised an eyebrow at him. "I'd leave the exaggerations to Edward, Colonel. He's much more creative with them." She cut off his protests by glancing towards the single lamp mounted to the wall opposite them. "Could you draw with wax?"

He tapped at his chin for a moment before walking over to pluck the candle from its holder. "I suppose it's better than nothing." He broke the long stick in two. Walking back to the door, he held the unlit end over the flame until it started dripping and then began drawing a circle. He only got a few centimeters of the way before having to re-melt the wax again.

After a few minutes of this painstaking process, he let out a frustrated sigh. "There's got to be a better solution."

"Unless you want to use your own blood, I highly doubt it," she commented, resting her head against the damp stone behind her. They were going to be here awhile.

He looked at his hand thoughtfully. She glared at him, regretting her sarcastic suggestion. "Don't you dare to even _think_ about it, Colonel. If we can't get out by ourselves, Havoc and the others will help us soon."

He clenched his fist. "I hope they're okay. Fighting with an alchemist is difficult if you don't have the same kind of firepower."

"Have a little faith, sir," she comforted him quietly. "They won't let us down."

"I know." He stuffed his hands in his pockets. "But I still worry. I hate being _here_ and not _there_. They're my team. I need to look after them."

She reached out and patted his shoulder. "So you can't just melt the door, I suppose?"

He shook his head. "The circles on my gloves aren't meant for hot fires that'll melt steel. I'd have to modify them, so we've still got nothing." He glanced sideways at her, aware of her hand still resting on his shoulder. "You wouldn't happen to have a pen, would you?"

She snorted. "You think of this _after_ the candle? No, I do not, sir."

He shrugged, keeping a straight face. "Well, you know. You're always writing so much…"

"Yes, when I'm working, back at the office. Where _you_ are supposed to be writing as well, sir." Her grip tightened slightly.

He laughed nervously. "Sorry, sorry. Trying to lighten the mood. We're gonna be stuck for a long time."

"I know." She leaned against him. "I hope you don't get hungry soon."

He couldn't help smiling. "Now that you mention it, I didn't eat before going on this wild goose chase. But if we play a game, it'll take my mind off my empty stomach."

She looked at him. "This isn't going to be mental hangman again, is it?"

"Well, do you have a better suggestion?" He retorted.

"Oh yes, tons. We can count the number of bricks in the wall, have a staring contest with the ceiling, scrape the rust off this door…" The corner of her lip quirked. "Must I go on?"

"Hey now," he protested. "It can't be _that_ bad."

"It is when you use the same phrase over and over again. Do you know how hard it is to keep guessing the wrong letters?" She shook her head in mock exasperation.

"If you would just guess it _right_ for once, we wouldn't have this problem," he pointed out.

She tilted her head and looked at him innocently. "But where's the fun in that?"

"Fine, fine." He smiled. "New phrase this time. Promise."

She sighed. "Alright. Go ahead."

He grinned in victory. "Three letter word, four letter word, two letter word."

"_You_...blank..._me_," She said after a moment's thought.

"Very good," he replied with a smirk. "Only the four letter one now." He held up a hand before she could say anything. "And I'll even give you a hint this time. The first three letters are L, O, and V."

"…A."

"Nope."

"B."

"…No."

"C."

"Dammit, Riza, be serious!"

She raised an eyebrow. "What, you don't think I'm honestly guessing?"

He narrowed his eyes at her in reply.

She ignored his mental accusation. "So what am I up to now?"

"…A head, body, and an arm."

"I see. My next guess is D."

"Which you know is wrong."

"Oh dear, another arm for the poor hangman." She nodded her head decisively. "But I've got the next one for sure."

"I'm hoping that you do."

"It's F, right?"

He stared at her. "You totally skipped E."

"What? You thought I was going in some sort of pattern?" She barely managed to resist grinning at his dumbfounded face. "G?"

"How could you let the poor guy die?" He looked at her mournfully. "You know the answer."

"Well, if I know the answer, there's no point in playing the game, is there?" She smiled slightly.

"I guess not," he agreed. Then he got a glint in his eye. "Well, even though you lost, you get a consolation prize."

"Oh? And that would be?"

He grinned and spread his arms. "A hug from a dashing young colonel stuck in this creepy dark cellar with you."

"Hm. Lucky me." She let him pull her close while she wrapped her arms around his waist. "You know, if this consolation prize is already so good, I don't think I ever need to win."

"But if you win, you get a kiss too," he rested his chin on the top of her head.

"I see. I'll take that into consideration next time," she chuckled.

"Hey, Colonel, Lieutenant. You in there?" Havoc's voice came from the other side of the door.

"Yeah!" Mustang called back, head immediately snapping towards the sound. Hawkeye let him go and he leaned in close to the door. "Are you all alright?"

"Fine, sir." Havoc sounded a little out of breath. "We managed to knock him out without too much damage; Breda's got a bloody knee and I have some scrapes and bruises, but other than that we're fine."

Mustang let out a sigh of relief. "That's good. Can you help us out?"

There was a pause. "The door's almost entirely blocked. I think we might be able to break through the wall with some explosives. Hang in tight, you two." Another pause; Mustang was sure Havoc was snickering. "Be good."

They heard faint footsteps recede. He turned to Hawkeye. " 'Be good?' We were being bad? _I_ thought we were being _especially_ good."

She smiled and shook her head. "See Roy? I told you not to worry. They did wonderfully."

He smiled back. "Yes, Riza. Yes they did."

**A/N: Yay for mental hangman reference :D I figured I could bring it back once more without it seeming too repetitive. And if you haven't read that chapter yet...you should. It's titled "Liar," if I remember correctly...chapter 11. Go have a look at it if you have time :) **

**Thanks for reading!  
**


	40. 040: Halves

**A/N: Hey guys! Sorry for the late update, but life's been busy. I really like this chapter, though, so I wanted to get it up as soon as possible. Enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: I have a thermostat that reads 81 freaking degrees right now (you know it's bad when I have to resort to almost-swearing), but I do not own FMA.  
**

Hawkeye walked into the office, mug of coffee in hand. She set it down on her desk and slowly lowered herself into her chair.

Breda rummaged in his bag, breaking the silence. He pulled out half an apple, carefully peeling back the paper napkin that was wrapped around it. Havoc, rolling a cigarette between his fingers, noticed what he was doing and raised an eyebrow. "Just half?"

His colleague mumbled something about cutting back on his food intake. Hawkeye glanced up from her desk. "No smoking in the office, please, Havoc."

He waved the stick of rolled tobacco. "Relax, Lieutenant. It's not lit."

She stared as if just noticing it. Then she nodded and picked up her coffee mug. "My apologies, Havoc. I just assumed."

Havoc grinned, unable to resist commenting. "Well, Hawkeye, you know what they say. 'Assuming makes an _ass_ out of _you_ and _me_." He immediately threw his hands in front of his face to protect himself from the assault that would inevitably follow his smart remark.

But no attack came. There wasn't even a scary aura of death. He slowly lowered his arms. Hawkeye was skimming through the papers in front of her, though the glazed look in her eyes made Havoc wonder just how much information she was absorbing.

"Lieutenant?" Fuery asked softly from his corner with the radio. "Are you alright?"

Her head jerked up. "Hm? Oh, yes, Fuery. I'm fine." She picked up her mug and took a sip. Making a sound of disgust, she lowered the drink and seemed dumbfounded. "What's this?"

"Coffee." Falman perked up. "A bitter, usually hot drink made from the coffee bean—"

"I know that." Breda detected the slightest edge in her voice. "I was sure that I'd grabbed _tea_ from the break room." She sighed and stood up, mug in hand. "I'll be right back."

The office door clicked closed and the four remaining officers stayed silent, each returning to their individual tasks. After a moment Fuery looked at the clock. "Woah, it's ten o'clock already. Where's the colonel? He's not usually this late."

"He's off at some state alchemist gathering, remember?" Havoc waved his hands in the air distractedly. "All top secret and hush-hush. He won't be back for a couple weeks. I bet they're really just off partying and getting girls." He allowed a dejected sigh to escape his lips.

Breda bit into his apple half with a loud crunch, munching on it noisily. Havoc tolerated five seconds of slurping and chewing before crumpling up a stray piece of paper. With a practiced ease he threw it, hitting Breda squarely on the nose.

The apple-eater yelped indignantly and fired him a glare. Havoc just held out a hand. "I'll need that form back. It's due at three this afternoon."

* * *

"Hey everyone." Ed flung open the door, allowing it to slam dramatically against the wall behind it.

"Woah, easy on the door there, Ed," Havoc laughed. "I swear there's a good sized dent in the wall by now." The door swung back a little, revealing enough to show the truth in his words.

The alchemist clapped his hands and placed them against the plaster. There was a flash of crackling blue light. When it faded, the blemish was gone. Ed turned and grinned. "There. All fixed."

Havoc chuckled and jerked a thumb over his shoulder. "The colonel's in, so go ahead."

Ed sauntered into the inner office. Al looked around. "Is Black Hayate here? I was thinking of taking him for a walk while Brother…ah…_discusses_ the mission with the colonel."

Breda examined his apple half critically before replying. "The lieutenant's on leave for awhile. She won't be back till next week."

"Oh." Al said, disappointment echoing in his tinny voice. "I'll just wait here then."

-/-

"Heya, Colonel Bastard." Ed waved the folder in his hand as a greeting. "How's it going and yada yada."

"Good morning, Fullmetal," Mustang replied, setting his pen down. He held out a hand for the report.

Ed looked at him suspiciously, refusing to hand over his file. "That's it?"

His superior raised an eyebrow. "Were you expecting something more?"

The teenager strained his ears, but he detected no underlying malice, no hidden implication. He narrowed his eyes. "Yeah. Yeah, I was. What'd you do, inhale too much smoke or something?"

"I assure you that I did not do such a thing. If you would kindly hand me your report, Fullmetal, we can both be on our way." He wiggled the fingers of his proffered hand to emphasize his point.

Ed slowly raised his arm and extended the folder gingerly. As soon as Mustang grasped the edge Ed quickly drew his hand back, as if he'd been bitten.

Mustang blinked, expression blank. He carefully placed the file on his desk and picked up his pen again. "Dismissed, Fullmetal."

"Oh. Okay." Ed took a step back, and then realized something. He stopped and looked at the colonel once more. "Hey, where's Hawkeye?"

"Mm?" Mustang glanced up to meet his gaze, but he seemed unfocused. "Oh. She's on required vacation."

Ed raised an eyebrow. "A _required_ vacation?"

"Yes." Mustang nodded his head slightly. "She hasn't taken leave since we moved to Central, so her vacation days have been piling up. But they made her use them all this year."

"I guess that makes sense." Ed grinned. "I can't really imagine Hawkeye taking a vacation by choice."

Mustang's lips quirked a little. "No, I don't think she would."

"Well, see you around then." Ed closed the door behind him, entering the outer office once more.

"I didn't hear any yelling or scuffling." Havoc looked up and winked at him. "Should we be concerned?"

Ed made a face at him. "Nah, don't think so. Though he seemed a little off today. Not _one_ insult while I was in there. He actually acted mature for once."

"Maybe you're more mature now too, Brother," Al suggested, perking up. "You know what all mature people do?"

"No, Al, we are _not_ taking care of that stray cat you saw on the way here." Ed grabbed his brother's arm and raised a hand in goodbye. "Catch you guys later."

The door slam was followed by a low thud as Breda tossed his half-apple core into the trash bin.

* * *

"Good morning, Lieutenant," Mustang greeted as he walked in. "How was your vacation?"

"It was alright, sir," Hawkeye replied, looking up from the files she was reading. "But it's nice to be back. Your paperwork is on your desk."

He smirked. "Ah, that's good. But is there anything I need to do today?"

She raised an eyebrow. "I'm coming in to check on you in ten minutes."

"Hm. I suppose I'll savor my last moments of freedom until then." He entered his office, leaving the door ajar.

Hawkeye took a sip of her tea and exhaled softly. At lunch Fuery would claim that he had seen her smile just the _tiniest_ bit, but no one would believe him.

Breda pulled an apple from his bag and took a huge bite.

Havoc glanced up at the loud crunch. "Hey, what happened to the halves?"

Breda shrugged, grinning. "I dunno. A whole apple just feels right."

**A/N: See what I did there? I usually don't put analogies or parallels in on purpose (because this is fanfiction, not literature to analyze for your English class), but it was perfect for this prompt.**

**The very cool "assume" quote is from my eighth grade health teacher. He is awesome. He is also retiring next year...sadness. **

**I'm out of town from the 9th to the 19th, so I dunno how much I'll be able to update. But After I get back I'll try to update every...hm, let's try something new. I will update every Saturday :)  
**

**Woot! 40% done, people! Thanks to those who have stayed this long, and those who have just arrived and will hopefully stay for the rest. I love you all! ^^**

**Thanks for reading!  
**


	41. 041: Coat

**A/N: If you saw the theme "Coat" and thought, "oh, another fluffy drabble about Roy sharing his coat with Riza," then you're WRONG!**

**Because you've read this fanfic long enough to know that it's not going to go down like that.**

**And if you've just joined us, I sincerely apologize for my weirdness. Hopefully you'll stick around long enough to get used to it.  
**

**Enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: I own a coupon for free chips and guac from Chipotle, but I do not own FMA. Which is really a pity. I'd much rather watch anime than eat ;)  
**

"All I'm saying," Mustang drawled in that absolutely _infuriating_ way of his, "is that red certainly isn't what I'd imagine a _tall_ man to be wearing."

"ALRIGHT," Ed roared, viciously stabbing his finger in the colonel's face, "THAT'S THE LAST STRAW. YOU ASKED FOR IT, COLONEL BASTARD!"

Outside the office's closed door, Hawkeye was seriously regretting her decision to let the colonel meet Edward alone and attempt to hold a _mature_ discussion. Her hand was centimeters from grasping the doorknob when she heard a clap and a strangled yell. She barely had time to back away before the Fullmetal Alchemist flung the door open and stormed through the outer office.

"Brother!" Al stood up and held up a placating hand. "Please wait, I'm sure you can sort this out—"

"You know what, Al?" Ed spun around. "I'm past doing anything civil with that bastard. I don't give a _fuck_ about him. Now let's get out of here." He spat his last words with a vengeance before stomping out of the room. The door was spared any abuse only because Al was able to catch it before it slammed shut.

"Um, I'm sure he'll come around," Al peeked around the door. "He just needs to cool down a little."

"We'll be here." Havoc waved a hand.

The outer door gently closed just as Hawkeye opened the inner one. She wordlessly took in the sight in front of her, slowly piecing together what must have happened.

"That. _Little_." Mustang stood with his back to her, but she could easily imagine his expression. Jaw hanging. Left eyebrow twitching. Eyes wide with horrified disbelief.

She'd seen that face many times before. After all, before Edward, _she_ had been the cause of Mustang's endless suffering. One corner of her lip quirked upward at the thought.

He finally turned and raised one trembling finger to point at his coat rack. "Look at it, Hawkeye. _Look_ at it."

"I'm looking, sir," she assured him.

"Do you…do you _see_ this?" He lifted one sleeve of his coat and shook it a couple times for emphasis.

She watched as the sleeve flopped back and forth. "It seems to be a different shade than I remember."

"A different shade?" He repeated. "A different _shade_? It's _red_, Lieutenant. He made it _red_!"

"I always thought black was a little dull, Colonel." She barely managed to keep a straight face. "Red seems more fitting for the Flame Alchemist, doesn't it?"

"What?" He grabbed the coat off its hook and thrust it into her arms. "You're surely joking, Hawkeye. I can't go out wearing _this_."

She held the coat out in front of her and examined it. Edward hadn't even left a single button unscathed. A child prodigy, indeed. "And why not, Colonel?"

He gaped at her. "Really, Hawkeye? Must I explain myself?"

She sighed and carefully folded the offending piece of clothing. "Alright, sir, I get it. But no need to overreact. If Edward did this with alchemy, you can surely reverse it using the same means."

"Not without a transmutation circle I can't." He ran a frustrated hand through his hair. "And I can't make one without damaging the coat permanently."

She placed the neatly folded square of red cloth on his desk. "If you just made one on the inside—"

"Do not," he cut her off quietly, a dangerous aura surrounding him, "suggest such a thing, Lieutenant."

She resisted the urge to roll her eyes. "Well, if you're unwilling to mar your precious coat further, Colonel, I suggest getting a new one instead."

"If I order one, it won't come for weeks." He sat down at his desk and put his head in his hands. "And I can't buy one on the street. Because I can't go out without a coat."

"Then just wear mine," she sighed, exasperated.

He lifted his head to stare at her. "Hawkeye. You can't be serious."

"And why not?" She crossed her arms.

"Well, it's just…" He made a few feeble hand gestures. "You're…you know…smaller than me. Your coat won't fit."

"For heaven's sake, sir." She couldn't believe she was having this conversation...actually, she could. She was talking with Roy Mustang, after all. "It's a beautiful autumn afternoon outside. On days like these you never actually _wear_ your coat. You just drape it around your shoulders and act like it's a cape. If you wear mine today there won't be any difference. No one cares if it's a bit shorter than normal."

He huffed. "Oh please, Lieutenant. It's not a cape. It's a coat. And for your information, I need it to keep warm. If yours is shorter, it won't shield my back properly from the wind."

"You'll be cold, sir?" She gripped the edge of his desk and leaned forward, eyes narrowed. "Then just make a fire, Mr. _Flame_ Alchemist. You are wearing my coat, or you are staying here doing paperwork until a new one comes, even if it takes an entire month."

He swallowed visibly. "Alright, alright, Hawkeye. I'll wear your coat."

"Good." She straightened. She turned to leave, grabbing the crimson jacket on her way out.

"Where are you going with that, Lieutenant?" He asked, curious.

"Well, if you don't want it, I'll take it." She gave him a sideways look. "It'll probably make a good cape."

He shook his head at her mocking remark but smiled a little. "I'll be alright without a coat, Hawkeye. You don't really have to lend me yours."

She glanced at him over her shoulder and raised an eyebrow. "Well, if I didn't, I wouldn't be protecting my precious colonel, now would I?"

She turned so he wouldn't see her smile, his words softly ringing in her ears.

"Ah…thank you, Riza."

**A/N: Because Roy is always wearing that coat without actually _wearing_ it, you know? And of course his sleeves flap epically in the wind and he looks freakin' awesome, but it's a bit silly if you think about it.**

******(A little shorter than my recent chapters, but still entertaining, I hope.) **

**Thanks for reading!  
**


	42. 042: Day Off

**A/N: Happy July 4****th****, everybody! Woohoo for independence and all that (today, July 2****nd****, is the date of the actual signing of the declaration). And if you aren't American, just celebrate another amazing summer weekend, yeah?**

**Now, please enjoy the 42****nd**** installment of this fanfic (Haha, I feel so official saying that).**

**Disclaimer: I do not own FMA. Nor do I own ****Alice in Wonderland****. Though I'm sure I've fallen down the rabbit hole at least once…**

"WHAT DO YOU MEAN IT'S HIS _DAY OFF_?"

The secretary cowered behind her desk. "I-I'm sorry, Mr. Elric. The colonel and his entire team are on leave until next week."

Ed clenched his fists. "And that smug bastard didn't even _think_ to mention this tiny tidbit of information when he stressed that I had to be back in _exactly_ one month?"

The secretary answered with a squeak, shrinking back in fear of being hit.

Al placed a hand on the older Elric's shoulder. "Please calm down, Brother. It's not her fault that Colonel Mustang isn't in today."

Ed deflated a little and rubbed his neck apologetically. "Ah, you're right, Al. My apologies, uh," he squinted at the nameplate on the desk, "Ms. Brown. I didn't mean to yell at you like that."

"I-It's alright." The secretary slowly uncurled from her defensive ball. She gave them a weak smile. "If you want, I can give you the colonel's address and you can report to him there."

Ed wrinkled his nose. "I don't really want to take a trip to Flaming-Bastard-ville, but I can't wait an entire week. I guess I'll take it."

"I'll be back in just a moment; the file's in back." She got up and hurried off.

Al didn't miss the quiet sigh of relief that escaped her lips as she left. "You really should be more considerate of other people, Brother," he gently admonished. "Not everyone can handle your temper like the colonel can."

"Tch." Ed crossed his arms. "I'd be a lot more civil if I didn't see his smirking face floating around every time someone says that god-awful name 'Mustang.' He's worse than the fucking Cheshire Cat."

"GREETINGS, ELRIC BROTHERS!"

Ed and Al turned as a massive figure squeezed through the doorway and blinded all in the room with his bulging, shimmering muscles.

"Uh…hello to you too, Major Armstrong." Ed brushed a wayward sparkle of his coat.

"Good morning," Al said politely.

"AND WHAT BRINGS YOU BOYS TO HEADQUARTERS ON THIS FINE MORNING?" Armstrong was already putting on a new uniform. Ed briefly wondered how many shirts the major went through in one day.

"Brother was going to make his report to the colonel," Al explained. "But he's not in, so now we're getting his address to go see him there."

"AH," Armstrong boomed in understanding. "IF YOU'D LIKE, I CAN DELIVER YOUR REPORT INSTEAD."

"Oh, that's alright." Ed grinned sheepishly. "You see, I don't really write stuff down. I…uh…discuss my missions with Mustang. Face to face and that sort of thing."

"THEN TELL IT TO ME NOW AND I SHALL RECITE IT TO HIM," Armstrong declared, undeterred.

"No, no, you really don't need to." As much as Ed hated Mustang, _no one_ should have to go through the torture of listening to a half-naked Armstrong magnificently presenting a mission report while flexing his muscles in all the wrong places.

"NONSENSE!" Armstrong's new shirt didn't stand a chance; it was ripped to shreds in a fraction of a second. The major struck an appropriately heroic pose. "RECITATION IS A BEAUTIFUL AND FRAGILE ART THAT HAS BEEN PASSED DOWN THE ARMSTRONG LINE FOR GENERATIONS AND GENERATIONS!"

"Um…"

Ms. Brown squeezed her eyes shut (wondering _why on earth_ she had come back at this time _of all times_) and thrust a slip of paper at Ed. "Here you go, Mr. Elric. If you don't mind, I should go now…for my lunch break."

"Uh, yeah, sure. Thanks." Ed didn't point out that it was only nine in the morning. One look at Armstrong's rippling, sparkling pectorals was all he needed to understand. "We should probably get going too. Come on, Al."

The brothers quickly snuck past the flexing major as he continued to explain just how the 'beautiful and fragile art' of reciting had been passed down to him.

Once they were outside of HQ, Ed glanced down at the address and raised an eyebrow. "Well, I guess I shouldn't be surprised."

"What?" Al looked at the hastily scribbled line. "Oh. I didn't know the colonel lived right next to the fire department. That must be convenient."

* * *

"Room 611, right?" Ed didn't wait for confirmation. He banged his fist on the door. "Hey, Colonel Bastard! Open up!"

The door slowly opened to reveal a casually dressed Mustang. His normally bored expression turned into a smirk. "Hello there, Fullmetal. Fancy seeing you _down_ _there_."

"I am _not_ in the mood for that right now, you overly smug jackass," Ed growled, a vein throbbing in his forehead. "The sooner you let me in to give my report, the sooner Al and I can book it out of here."

"Rough morning?" Mustang raised an eyebrow but stepped aside to let them pass. "Hello, Alphonse."

Al returned the greeting as Ed flopped onto the couch. "Wow, bastard. Gotta say, you have a pretty nice place."

"It certainly doesn't hurt to keep clean, Fullmetal." Mustang settled himself in the armchair opposite to Ed. "I sincerely hope you have room for a sense of personal hygiene in that deranged teenage brain of yours."

"Oh, I do. I was just surprised that you do too," Ed shot back.

Mustang chuckled. "Alright, Fullmetal. Now, your report?"

Al stood quietly as the other two alchemists discussed the finer points of the Elric brothers' latest adventures (interlaced with sarcastic observations from Mustang and enraged insults from Ed). The suit of armor's glowing eyes wandered around the apartment, taking in the plain décor.

The soft clicking of nails on the hardwood floor immediately got his attention. Black Hayate trotted to him, and Al bent down to give the dog a good scratch behind the ears. _If Hayate is here, that means…_

"Good morning Alphonse, Edward." Hawkeye walked into the room, drying her damp hair with a towel.

"WOAH WOAH WOAH." Ed shot out of his seat, his expression like that of a cornered animal. "GET A _ROOM_, WON'T YOU, BASTARD?"

"If you haven't noticed, this _is_ my apartment," Mustang calmly reminded him.

"WHATEVER!" Ed sputtered. "AL, WE ARE LEAVING _RIGHT NOW._" He grabbed his brother's arm and dragged him out the door.

"Wait, Fullmetal!" Mustang called, though he didn't bother to get up. "What about the rest of that report?"

Al resisted his spastic sibling enough to poke his head around the door. "If you don't mind, Colonel, I'll get Brother to write it up and I'll come over with it later."

"I will see you tonight then, Alphonse," Mustang nodded, ignoring the muffled "No! You are _not_ coming back _here_ while _they_ are still _together_!"

Al stumbled a little at one of Ed's particularly strong pulls, but managed to hang on to the doorframe. "Thanks, Colonel. See you then."

Riza turned to give her superior officer a withering glance as the door clicked shut. "I noticed you didn't bother to correct Edward's…_assumption_."

Roy shrugged. "It's my day off. Extra work is not part of the plan."

She sighed and draped the towel around her shoulders. "Well, you could've at least bothered to explain that I'm only here because my entire apartment building is being fumigated."

He shrugged again, sinking deeper into his chair. "Eh. Work."

She resisted the urge to scold him, reminding herself that they weren't at the office. She bent down to pet Hayate instead. "I really wish Rebecca wasn't off on vacation. I would much rather be at her place right now."

"Aw, you don't mean that." Roy dangled his arm off the armrest and wiggled his fingers to entice Hayate to come over. "Am I really that bad of a host?"

"Nearly," she chuckled, standing up to walk over to him. She rested her arms on his chairback. "You do realize that this entire floor probably heard Edward's exclamations?"

"Undoubtedly." He tilted his head to look up at her, smirking. "Since they've already gotten the idea, why don't we just go ahead and make it official?"

"Hm." She leaned in closer, the beginnings of a smile curving her lips. "As long as you don't think it's too much work."

**A/N: Well, that was fun to write :D**

**If FMA takes place around 1914, then ****Alice in Wonderland**** was already in print. I'm just taking the liberty of pretending that Lewis Carroll existed in FMA too. Because the thought of Roy as the Cheshire Cat simply makes me grin like mad (But we're all a little mad, right?)**

**Armstrong's pretty fun to work with once in a while. I hadn't written him in a long time, so I figured now was as good a time as any. I hope I didn't scar you all too much with the shirt ripping and CAPS LOCK ABUSE.**

**A paper on fumigating was published in 1902, so I'm assuming it'd be in use by 1914. Sorry if I'm wrong…I had to think of a way to get Riza into Roy's apartment, yeah?**

**And if you didn't get the significance of Roy's apartment number, there are many Royai fans (including yours truly) who would be more than happy to explain ;)**

**Thanks for reading!**


	43. 043: Wind

**A/N: I haven't really read any other Royai 100 Themes with "wind" (though I admit I haven't read many 100 themes lately), so I'm not sure if this is an original idea or not. I felt proud of myself for thinking of it at first, but I feel now that my epiphany must have been what the creators of the themes list had in order to put "wind" on there in the first place.**

** Oh well, hopefully I've added my own flairs to it so it's not a complete repeat of what you've already read.  
**

**Anyway, please enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: I own shorts with a few "shiny" (as my sister put it, surprised that I would wear anything remotely flashy) rhinestones, but no FMA. My birthday's coming up, though, so maybe... nah.  
**

When Havoc strode into the office and saw Ed slouched on the sofa, he very nearly dove for cover. But after registering that there was no Colonel Mustang to aggravate the situation, he let himself relax a little. "Hey, Ed. How's it going?"

Ed made a noncommittal sound and half-lifted his shoulders in response, clearly occupied with something else.

Havoc raised both eyebrows. "You okay there? Should I call in the HQ psychologist or what?"

Ed turned to face him. "You guys really have a personal shrink here?"

"Well, you know." Havoc shrugged and twirled a finger next to his ear. "Doing paperwork is enough to make _anyone_ seek professional help. Even Hawkeye, but don't tell her I said that. She doesn't think anyone knows."

The teenager snorted but couldn't help grinning a little.

Satisfied that Ed was alright, Havoc settled himself on the other end of the couch. "So, where's Al?"

"Out with the lieutenant's dog," Ed sighed. "Of course, that leaves me sitting around by myself waiting for that bastard colonel."

Havoc noted Mustang's closed office door. "Ah…he's got a meeting, doesn't he?"

"With some important general or other." Ed's hands fidgeted in his lap. "If I burst in like usual he'd never let me hear the end of it, so I've just got to twiddle my thumbs and wait for him to take his own damn time finishing things."

Havoc couldn't resist smiling; no matter how many times Ed and the colonel went head to head, at the end of the day they wouldn't hesitate to help each other reach their respective goals. Ed's self-imposed restraint was more than enough to prove that.

He saw the scraps of paper on the small coffee table in front of them (the same one Ed was currently resting his feet on) and finally noticed what Ed was doing. "I didn't know you were still into arts and crafts, Chief."

The alchemist snorted again. "Winry just upgraded my automail. She says I should have more dexterity now, so she told me to practice handling small things like this."

"You mean cutting paper with scissors?" Havoc leaned over and noticed the scribbles on the scrap Ed was holding. "And doodling all over them?"

The alchemist grinned mischievously. "Well, Al's been telling me to let my anger out in less…ah, how'd he put it…oh yeah, 'explosive' ways. So that's what I'm doing."

Havoc squinted at the paper figure in the teenager's hands. "Is that…the colonel?"

Ed smirked. "You bet your ass it is. And I've just finished it, too, so now comes the fun part."

The door suddenly opened, and Mustang and General Raven walked out together. Havoc immediately stood at attention, and Ed reluctantly got up as well, muttering under his breath all the while.

As soon as the general disappeared, Ed leaped over the couch. Mustang caught his punch with practiced ease and commented on how holding a civil discussion in his inner office would be much less _childish_.

Havoc tuned out another one of Ed's vicious rants as he made his way back to his desk. He twirled his pen idly between his fingers, wondering when the others would return from lunch.

The haphazardly cut caricature of the colonel remained on the coffee table, saved from whatever malicious designs Ed had planned for it.

* * *

Mustang let out a yawn, closing his door as he entered the outer office. He blinked. "Wow, is it that late already?"

Hawkeye was the only one in the room, having conveniently found some papers that needed straightening until her colonel had finished. "Yes, it is, sir. Everyone else left an hour ago."

Mustang shrugged and stuffed his hands into his pockets. "I blame the meeting with Raven. Took away from my precious paperwork time."

Hawkeye raised her eyebrow at his choice of the word 'precious,' but made no comment. She slipped on her jacket. "Ready to go, sir?"

"Huh. I see Fullmetal was busy." Mustang had discovered his paper self and was examining it critically.

Hawkeye walked over to him and suppressed a smile. "Edward's quite the artist, isn't he?"

"That depends on your definition of 'artist.'" Mustang wasn't very pleased. "My chin isn't _that_ square, is it, Lieutenant?"

She ignored his inquiry and made another observation instead. "If it's any consolation, I never thought of your face being so akin to a chameleon's."

"Tch." He glared back at Ed's incredibly _gross_ misrepresentation of him, but the fact that the paper Roy's eyes were staring off in two different directions didn't help. Neither did the tongue permanently hanging out from the zig-zag line he supposed were his lips. "He makes me look like I belong in a big room with cushy walls."

"Well, I don't know, sir," Hawkeye mused. She looked from the paper replica to him and then back again. "I can see it now."

His eye twitched. "No, you can_not_ see it, Lieutenant, because the comparison doesn't exist. At all."

He chose to overlook her vaguely amused expression and fingered the back of the figure, raising an eyebrow when he felt the extra flap. "Oh, what's this?" He unfolded it and stood the paper doll carefully on the table. "Well, at least Fullmetal had the sense to let me stand by myself. Even _he_ can't deny the extent of my magnificence."

Hawkeye crouched down so she was on eye level with the significantly smaller colonel. "Magnificence, is it?" She let out a gentle breath and her lip quirked as the figure fell on its back. "That was indeed a _magnificent _display, sir."

He crossed his arms and forced his already smirking lips into a mock frown. "Hey now, don't go bullying mini Flame. Play nice, Lieutenant."

"I _was_ playing nice, Colonel," she defended. "I just didn't expect him to be defeated by such a slight gust of wind." She straightened and raised an eyebrow at him. "You certainly can't blame his downfall on a force of nature."

He chuckled. "When the force of nature is _you_, I can." His faced suddenly brightened. "Huh, I got it, Hawkeye."

She looked at him. "Got what, sir?"

"I got _it_," he repeated unhelpfully. Then he elaborated. "You're like the wind." He seemed quite pleased with this poetic turn in the conversation.

"Please don't say something cheesy like 'the wind beneath my sails,' sir. Then I _will_ be forced to admit you into 'a big room with cushy walls.'"

She quoted him as easily as if she'd said it herself, and he smiled slightly at the reference to his earlier observation. "Actually, I wasn't going to mention anything that had even the _tiniest_ correlation with water," he assured her. "I was just thinking that if I'm the flame, you're the wind."

"And how did you reach that conclusion, Colonel?"

Her eyes told him she'd already figured it out, but he humored her by saying it anyway. "Because the wind can fuel the fire and make it strong and bright, but it can just as easily snuff out the flame with one breath."

She nodded, letting her small smile widen a bit more. "Well, I think I can speak for the wind when I say she doesn't _want_ to blow the fire out, as long as he doesn't do anything excessively stupid."

"And _I_ speak for the fire when he says there's not a chance in hell that he will," he promised. He glanced at the clock and realized how late it was. "Oh, sorry to keep you waiting, Lieutenant. Shall we go?"

"Right away, sir," she replied readily, bending down to pick up the paper figure before they left.

He raised an eyebrow in question, and she just smiled in reply.

Nodding, he turned away from her as he closed the door behind them, even though he knew that he couldn't really hide the silly grin plastered on his face.

But there was definitely no harm in trying anyway.

**A/N: ****I enjoyed writing this take on the theme (which was the third one I planned) and I didn't have to think much, which is always a good sign, so I knew this was the one I should stick with.**

**In the two earlier drafts I had Fuery note that Riza was like the wind in comparison to Roy, because I can see him realizing that, but when I was writing his version it just didn't have much...life to it, if that makes sense. But rest assured that I love Fuery to death, just like I do with the rest of the FMA gang. There are more than 50 themes left, so I'm sure Fuery will get his chance to shine again.**

**Thanks for reading!  
**


	44. 044: Hair

**A/N: Gah, sorry for the wait. Explanation at the end. Now please, enjoy (the long awaited?) 44th chapter!**

**Disclaimer: I don't even own all the Harry Potter movies. How do you expect me to own FMA?  
**

"Hey, Hawkeye. That's about the fifteenth time you've straightened that stack of papers, you know."

The lieutenant spared her colleague a withering glance even as she shuffled the sheets for a sixteenth round. "Yes, I'm quite aware of that, thank you, Havoc."

He held up both hands in an attempt to ward off her sharp gaze. "Just making sure, Lieutenant. Sorry to bother you."

Hawkeye returned her attention to the papers, taking a deep breath. It wasn't fair for her to take her frustration out on Havoc. After all, it wasn't _his_ fault that the colonel and Edward were having another "sophisticated exchange of ideas" loud enough for all to hear. To put it bluntly, she was quite and thoroughly _pissed_ at this point, and it was all she could do to keep her temper in check.

For some exasperating reason or other, the colonel got sheer _mountains _of joy just from provoking the Fullmetal Alchemist whenever they met. Of course, that hardly made him any more mature than the prodigy teenager, though Mustang didn't seem to mind.

And that was probably the most vexing problem of all. No matter how many times she extracted a promise from him to behave, the colonel always forgot the moment Edward banged through that door. She could probably get Havoc to give up his nicotine _and_ have Breda skip lunch for once in his life before that blessed day came—the day her superior would make an honest effort to hold a polite, genuine, _normal_ conversation with Ed.

Today was definitely not that day.

She heard a rather amplified declarative about exactly how the colonel rated on the "bastard scale" (apparently Mustang had achieved the highest honor of "disgustingly smug pyromaniac with jackass tendencies"). This was followed by a coolly voiced remark about a certain Edward Elric's "antenna" and the wonders it did for his height.

Hawkeye ears automatically shut down for the next ten seconds, refusing to let any acknowledgment of sound reach her brain. Across the room Fuery shoved his headphones on. Havoc and Breda immediately found some paperwork that needed to be delivered and were out of the office before she could blink. Falman stuffed in his earplugs and continued reading the newspaper.

Yes, they were all quite accustomed to Edward's "rants" by now. Though she made a note to get herself some of her own ear plugs for next time; she could only tune out that one-thousand-decibel screech so many times before suffering permanent eardrum damage.

The colonel's door slammed open, signaling the end of the noisier part of the day. Ed stomped through the office, his face a shade of red that put his signature coat to shame. He stormed out of HQ to where Al was waiting for him, not sparing even a backwards glance for the other officers. Hawkeye sighed and set down the papers she'd been needlessly straightening for the past ten minutes.

Time to assess the damage.

She stepped into Mustang's office. "What needs to be repaired, sir?" She asked out of habit, already observing the overturned chair (which was also suspiciously missing a leg) and the rather large tear in the carpet.

"I need scissors, Hawkeye," he demanded.

"Right away sir," she replied, automatically responding to his commanding tone. She spun around and placed one foot outside the office. Then she realized what he'd said. She stopped in her tracks and slowly turned to face him again. "Come again? Sir?"

"Scissors," he repeated from behind his folded hands, elbows resting on the desk, eyes dark and unfocused. _Classic Roy Mustang Brooding Posture has been identified_, she observed, struggling not to grimace in anticipation of the migraine-inducing conversation she was about to get into.

She inhaled deeply instead and silently counted to ten. "What'd Edward say this time, sir?"

"That's of no importance," he practically snapped. "I need scissors, Hawkeye, now!"

She let some of her disbelief show on her face, already feeling a slightest throbbing in her left temple. "And if I may ask, sir, what do you need scissors so urgently for?"

"Hawkeye," he said deliberately, in the voice he used when he was reminding her that _he_ was the colonel and so she was still required to follow his orders once in a while. "Scissors."

She crossed her arms and refused to budge, raising a single eyebrow in reply. Mustang recognized this stance as the one that said, "I _know_ that you're the colonel and I'm just a lieutenant, but you will become very, very sorry if you don't say something that's actually mildly intelligent in the next eight seconds."

He was still interested in living, so he elaborated a little. "And a mirror too." He paused. "Please."

Her brow furrowed slightly. "Scissors and a mirror? What are you going to do, sir? Cut your hair?"

"Ah…" he trailed off.

She blinked once.

Twice.

She slowly exhaled before speaking. "May I ask why?"

"I just thought it was time for a change, you know?" He waved it off as if it were nothing. "Just a trim, is all. It's easier to do it now than spending time and money at the barber's."

"You just had a trim last week," she pointed out.

"Oh." He smirked. "You noticed?"

"I scheduled the appointment for you," she reminded him bluntly, although she left out the part where she'd forgotten about the haircut until she saw him the next day. "This doesn't have anything to do with something Edward said, does it?" she asked again.

He scoffed. "What? Of course not, Lieutenant. I'm not so petty that I'd listen to whatever that _small_, hyperactive, violent ball of profanities and alchemic power happens to scream at the top of his prepubescent lungs."

"It's about that piece of hair that's always sticking up, isn't it?"

He stared at her like she'd just announced that Hayate was her husband.

She returned the stare, patiently waiting for a reaction. Normally she wouldn't be so straightforward, but if the colonel was going to make her go through something like this _again_, she might as well enjoy it.

He held his head with both hands, pinning down the offending lock of hair at the same time. He groaned. "Is it that obvious?"

"It's not something to worry about, sir," she reasoned calmly, her headache momentarily banished by the comically horrified expression now stamped across his features.

"But the kid is _right_!" Mustang insisted, waving his left hand in the air distractedly while his right remained firmly glued to the side of his head. "I never really noticed it before, but _it's there_. And I look so _unprofessional_. Like I just got out of bed! Like I've been sleeping half the workday!"

"You mean that's not true?"

Her face remained impassive, but he _saw_ the waves of pure amusement radiating from her being. She was clearly enjoying this.

He glared at her, but the only reaction was that slight upturn of her lips that could beat down his own trademark smirk any day.

He settled for a scowl and leaned back in his chair moodily. "Contrary to what you're implying, Lieutenant, this is _not_ just a bad hair day. It must have been there for _ages_ in order for Fullmetal to even notice it in the first place, so I aim to fix it _right now_ before this situation gets any worse."

Hawkeye shifted to a more comfortable stance, resigned to the fact that she was going to be standing in Mustang's office for a long time. "I don't think Edward is the childish one here, sir." She used a stricter tone now. "This kind of behavior is unnecessary, don't you think, Colonel? Especially for the self-proclaimed 'Lady-Killer of Central.'"

He made a face at her subtle mockery of his infamous womanizing skills. "I know that I may seem shallow at this instant, Lieutenant, but please understand that image is important whether I like it or not. I can't very well become Fuhrer with _this_." He pointed an accusing finger at his hair. "No one will take me seriously."

"So that's it?" She crossed her arms, unfazed by his passionate rant. "Of all the factors that could prevent you from reaching the top, _this_ is what you're most concerned about?"

He sunk a little lower in his chair, cursing the fact that she could see through him, no matter what the circumstance. And then force him to _talk_ about it.

"As much as you glare at that pen holder, sir, it is not going to walk out of your office. And neither am I."

"…No," he finally muttered, "I suppose I don't care that much about shaping my appearance to gain favor for the top position."

"Then what is it, really?" Her voice was gentler.

"I'm not as concerned about how I look to others," he mumbled, "as I am about how I look to you, Hawkeye."

She said nothing.

"I've known you for a long time." He paused to let the unspoken "Riza" hang in the air for a moment. "And you're important to me. In order to stand by you, in front of you, every day… I can't only _feel_ like I belong in this spot. I have to _look_ the part too. Don't," he looked up suddenly, cutting off her response, "give me any crap about you not caring about how I look."

"I wasn't going to," she assured him. Stepping back, she pretended to appraise him as she would a piece of furniture. Or perhaps a sniper rifle. "Unlike what all the romance novels you keep hidden in your bottom left drawer say, women _do _care about the appearance of their men to at least some extent."

His mood was lightening despite his best efforts to remain gloomy, so he let himself be drawn into the banter. "On the contrary, Lieutenant, _I_ am not the one with romance novels hidden in my bottom left drawer."

"My apologies," she said briskly, "it's the bottom _right_, isn't it?" Before he could retort, she nodded decisively and stepped forward once more. Leaning over, she tugged at his right sleeve to force him to remove the hand that was still clamped protectively on the side of his head. The unruly lock of hair sprung up into its usual place, and she smiled. "There. You look almost perfect."

He was so lost in her soft expression that he barely registered what she was saying. He blinked and gave her a bewildered glance. "Almost?"

She slipped a pen into his still raised hand and gently placed it onto the paper in front of him. Her smile widened. "See that, Colonel? You're doing your work. _Now_ you look perfect."

He grinned, ignoring the tingling sensation dancing along his hand where she'd let her fingertips graze his skin. "It's a relief to hear that you actually don't expect me to do any."

"Don't put words in my mouth, sir," she protested lightly, turning around. "I expect a decent finished stack when I come back, alright, Colonel?"

He chuckled. "Got it, Hawkeye." He looked up when he heard her footsteps stop. "Something wrong?"

"It seems," she replied slowly, back still to him, "that I left the door open when I first came in."

"Ah." From his position, he could see through the doorway to the unusually empty office. On closer inspection, he noticed the tip of a cigarette, not three paces from where Hawkeye now stood, unsuccessfully hidden by the doorframe. It wiggled slightly, and he casually placed a hand to his mouth to hold in his laughter. "Havoc and the others are nowhere to be seen?"

"Well, _they_ already finished their work before Edward came." Mustang pretended to ignore her unspoken accusation. "I guess they already left. They certainly wouldn't be _hiding outside your office_, right, sir?"

"Let's just say they were," Mustang managed to snicker from behind his hand. "Then what would you do, Lieutenant?"

The colonel, trained over the years to differentiate the subtle inflections of her tone, was the only one to hear the mischief in her voice. "I prefer not to dwell on unpleasant things, sir. I'm going to turn around for ten seconds, and after that I'm going back into the outer office. I don't expect anyone to be there."

"How about you make it just five seconds, Lieutenant?" Mustang suggested. "There really can't be anyone there, after all."

"Very well sir." She spun back to face him, almost grinning now. "One. Two."

The scuffling and muffled "Run! _Run_, you idiot!" along with Mustang's expression (he had hidden the lower part of his face behind his folded hands, but his eyes did all the laughing for him) were all she needed to know what exactly was going on behind her.

"Three. Four." She turned around and was greeted only with the outer office door swinging wildly on its hinges. A few papers fluttering to the ground were the only other evidence of their colleagues' hasty escape.

"Five," she finished, glancing back at the colonel. "That's a new record, isn't it, sir?"

"Yes, Hawkeye," Mustang managed to choke out even as he tried to restrain his laughter. "I think it is."

**A/N: You know what I'm talking about, right? I suppose it might be more prominent in the first anime, but Mustang does have a piece of hair that sticks out just a little ways above the rest. I read something comparing it to Ed's antenna, and this theme just happened to be the one I was working on :)**

**I had this typed up last Saturday, but I was reading through it and it was just so unorganized... a full page longer than my usual chapters, and I had been writing different parts of it at different times, so all the styles of writing were messed up. Even now I don't think I managed to stay in one style throughout the chapter, but it's much better than last week. I also needed to flesh out some transitions and make things a little less choppy, and that took a good part of this week (mind you, I was doing other things besides writing fanfiction, so that's why it took so long). I won't be able to get out chapter 45 by tomorrow, but hopefully by Sunday or Monday I can, and then I'll post 46 that Saturday. Okay? Okay.**

**Thanks for reading!  
**


	45. 045: Awakening

**A/N: Well, my over-achiever posting plan epically failed. But at least I managed to update according to my regular weekly schedule. Enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: You might think that this is only here to remind you that I don't own FMA, but it's really just a ploy to make you read more words before actually getting to the real story. Sneaky, aren't I?  
**

Mustang looked up as Hawkeye opened the office door. He put down the file he'd been pretending to examine and let his lip curve upward in a teasing smirk. "Well, well, Lieutenant. I must say—I didn't expect _you_ of all people to be late."

She glared at him, instantly aware of the fact that he'd been standing there for the past ten minutes just so he could greet her like this. "I sincerely apologize for my tardiness, sir. Though I do protest that this is a perfect example of the pot calling the kettle black."

Havoc let a snicker escape his lips. "She got you there, Colonel."

A flicker of annoyance flashed across Mustang's face, but in a split second his expression returned to its usual smug and cool disposition. "While that may be the case, Hawkeye, I think the least you owe me is an explanation."

"Very well, sir." She shrugged off her coat and hung it over the back of her chair. "Apparently, for the past week Hayate has been making quite the commotion back at my apartment. According to the landlord, he barks promptly at seven-thirty every morning and wakes up all the neighbors before stopping. Everyone on my floor has filed at least one complaint." She paused. "Though to be perfectly honest, I think seven-thirty is a perfectly reasonable time to be out of bed."

Havoc snorted. "Just because you get up at five every morning doesn't mean everyone else has to, Hawkeye."

"Yeah, Havoc needs his beauty sleep," Breda smirked into his breakfast sandwich. "Although it doesn't seem to be working wonders with the girls, anyway."

Hawkeye interrupted before the argument could escalate. "You do realize that all offices are supposed to be up and running at six-thirty everyday. _Someone_ has to get here on time. Otherwise we risk another strike on our records."

Havoc scratched his head. "What? _Another_ strike? When'd we get the first one?"

"I believe it was when Fuery rewired our office electricity but ended up accidentally cutting off the power for the entire HQ building," Falman spoke up.

Fuery turned red. "It was only because I lost that bet with Breda. I didn't have any more money so I just did what he asked."

Breda shrugged. "I wanted a makeshift hot plate to heat my afternoon snack. So sue me."

"HQ almost did," Hawkeye reminded them wryly. "Now, as engaging as this conversation is, it's already eight-thirty. I think we should start working."

She sat down to the rustling of papers and scratching of pens. Noticing the hand still resting on her desk, she looked up and raised an eyebrow at her colonel. "That means you too, sir."

Mustang ignored her verbal prodding. "I just wanted to know if you figured out what was causing Hayate to bark."

"No." She tapped her pen absentmindedly. "He was perfectly quiet today. I stayed past seven-thirty, but he didn't make a sound. Not even a whimper. I have no idea what's gotten into him."

Mustang shrugged. "Maybe he misses you."

She glanced at him skeptically. "Of course. Never mind that he's already seen me leave and come back without a problem for two months. No, just this week, precisely at seven-thirty, he realizes that he misses me and begins barking to convey his sorrow. His angst is relieved, conveniently, by the time all the people on my floor have been awakened, and he goes on about his day. Until tomorrow. And the day after that."

"It was just an idea." Mustang held up his hands to ward off her sarcasm. "But you've mentioned before that you haven't been able to spend as much time with him lately, so maybe it does have something to do with him missing you."

"Maybe." She skimmed the paper in front of her and filled in a couple of the blanks. "I'm going to stay with him tomorrow just to make sure nothing's really bothering him. So if you'd allow it, Colonel, I'll be late again."

"Certainly." Mustang slipped his hands into his pockets and leisurely walked back to his own desk.

* * *

Hawkeye glanced at the clock as she scratched Hayate's upturned belly. "Seven-thirty," she told him. She raised an eyebrow as he continued to pant contently. "Not feeling like an alarm clock today?"

Suddenly, her dog sat up, ears perked and nose pointed at the door. Excited, he ran over and began scratching at the wood, barking all the while.

"Hayate!" she spoke sharply. Immediately the puppy backed away and returned to her side. But his attention was still clearly focused on the door.

She nearly jumped when a sharp rapping came from the other side. "Coming," she called, frowning. Had the neighbors come to scold her again?

"Morning, Hawkeye," Mustang greeted cheerfully as soon as she opened the door.

"…Sir?" The only visible sign of her surprise was her bewildered stare.

"Mind if I come in?"

She stepped aside, too dumbfounded to resist. He strode in casually. "Impeccably clean as always. Excellent, Lieutenant," he commented as he looked around the apartment.

_Thump. Thump._

The two officers turned their attention to Hayate. The dog's tail was waving frantically, hitting the floor with every wag. He fidgeted, claws clicking on the wooden floor, but remained more or less in place.

A small smile tugged at Hawkeye's lips. "Go ahead," she said. Without another moment to waste, Hayate jumped up and bounded over to run circles around Mustang.

The colonel chuckled and bent down to pet him. "Energetic today as well, eh, Hayate?"

Hawkeye's gaze instantly switched from her dog to her superior officer. "What do you mean by 'as well,' sir?"

"Oh. Well…" He looked up as he scratched the ecstatic puppy behind the ears. "I've been seeing him a lot lately. Especially this week. Well, except yesterday; I saw you through one of the windows and decided I didn't need to drop by."

She crossed her arms and glared. "So _you're_ the reason I almost got kicked out of this building."

"I wasn't trying to." His grin was apologetic. "I always came in as fast as I could to hush him, but I still need time to unlock the door and by then everybody else is already awake."

She exhaled loudly through her nose, massaging her left temple. "And exactly _how_ do you have a set of my keys?"

His grin morphed into a playful smirk. "That's classified alchemist information, Lieutenant."

"Well, I guess it's better than breaking and entering," she relented, relaxing her stance a little. "So let me get this straight, sir. While I was at HQ wondering when you'd finally grace us with your delightful presence, you were sitting in my apartment playing with my dog."

"I've got to watch over my subordinates," he defended as he slid a (non-alchemic) glove across the floor for Hayate to chase. "And this little guy is the best one I have."

"Hm." She crouched next to him and rubbed her puppy's back. "Should I take offense to that?"

He leaned in closer to whisper conspiratorially. "Hayate's only the best because he's in the care of my favorite subordinate."

The dog's ears flicked towards them and Hawkeye's smile grew. "I think he heard you, sir."

"Oh, my apologies. He's in the care of my favorite subordinate _and_ my wonderful self," Mustang corrected with a wink.

She shook her head with a look of mock disapproval. "There are many, many words I would use to describe you, Colonel, but 'wonderful' is definitely not one of them."

"Ah, yes. But I'm sure 'unbelievably talented' and 'irresistibly handsome' are on that list."

"I suppose those two would have to be on there in an attempt to balance out all the other much less flattering ones," she teased.

He raised a finger. "But you admit that I'm both unbelievably talented _and_ irresistibly handsome?"

"Your words, not mine," was all she said.

**A/N: So... I've been a bit unmotivated lately (BIG understatement). I should probably dig up that new FMA movie from some corner of the internet to get my creative juices flowing again. But next week I'll be out of town so I'll have a legitimate excuse for not updating. Until the 13th of August, then, my dear, wonderful viewers. We will meet again :)**

**Thanks for reading!  
**


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